


Marsh Family Thanksgiving

by NoseBridgePinch



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, Holiday, Humor, Satire, Thanksgiving, similar to show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoseBridgePinch/pseuds/NoseBridgePinch
Summary: The Marsh family is having a reunion for the holiday. Stan's realitives are causing him a great deal of worry. In additon to dealing with his parents, sister, grandfather, Uncle Jimbo and Ned, Stan must also deal with his Uncle Dean, Aunt Joanne and cousin Stephanie. Hopefully Kenny can help ease things, right?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

The South Park Elementary school bus came to a halt at the first bus stop on the route. The door opened as Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick and finally Eric Cartman left the bus, backpacks over their shoulders, "Dude, why is it when we're kids they always teach us about how awesome Christopher Columbus is and how Thanksgiving is about peace with the Indians... and now we're in the fourth grade and suddenly all we did was kill all the Indians and Columbus is like Hitler?"

Cartman stopped, rubbing his chin, thinking, "Gee, I don't really know, Stan, maybe it's because nobody gives up a flying fuck."

"Dude, Cartman, come on, even you have to admit it, adults shouldn't lie to us and then contradict themselves! Remember Vunterslaush?" Stan said, crossing his arms. Cartman and Kyle looked embarrassed, avoiding his look. Kenny let out a laugh.

"Oh, you think you're an expert on how the world works now that you turned ten first? Excuse me Stan but who died and made you leader?" Cartman said accusingly, pointing at Stan. "We could easily stop hanging around you again and I'll just copy my math homework from Kahl now. He's not the one with a C average. Isn't that right Kahl?" Cartman put his hand on Kyle's shoulder, grinning and clearly expecting some back up.

"Don't touch me, fatass." Kyle stepped away from him as he took his report card out of his backpack - they were handed out before Thanksgiving break started. Stan eyed the straight A's across his super best friend's card and pulled out his own to compare. Mostly B's and a few A's- but a big fat C- in Math.

"It's probably higher than what you got anyway, fatass. Let's see yours!" Stan said, glaring.

Cartman pulled out his report card quickly, holding it out for them to see, "See? I'm totally smart you stupid assholes!" A piece of loose-leaf paper with a list of subjects; 'A+' written in glittery red lettering next to each. 'Cartman' was written in red next to the word 'Student', and 'Mr. Gayrisson' next to 'Student'.

"I have like straight A's in all my classes! Math, Science, Social Studies, Language Arts, Art, Gym..."

"Do you really expect us to believe this, Cartman?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, "It's so obviously fake that I feel bad you actually went to the trouble to even try."

"It's a special report card since I did so well. See the glitter? Guys?" Both Stan and Kyle stopped walking and stood in front of Cartman, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, looking like stern parents. "I'm better than Math at than Kinny, it's a known fact all poor people will eventually drop out of school anyway!"

"I was willing to let it go but now I'm genuinely curious what the hell you're trying to cover up. We all know you have straight D's anyway. Open your back pack. Cartman." Kyle stepped behind Cartman, trying to unzip his backpack. Cartman grabbed it and put it behind himself, shielding it with his fat body.

"Why do you two assholes always have to gang up on me? Why not gang up on Kinney? Everyone knows I'm way smarter than that poor piece of crap! If you think you're such a good leader, Stan, you'll make Kinny show his report card."

"I'll show you guys!" Kenny took off his back pack and started opening it, taking out his own report card: 'B' in Social Studies, 'A-' in Language Arts, 'D' in Math, 'C' in Science, 'B+' in Art, 'C+' in Music and an 'A' in Gym. "See? I'm doing fine. It's like all good grades and then Math!"

"Dude, Kenny, how are you not good at Science?" Kyle said in disbelief - he had an A+ there: it was one of his favorite and easiest classes. Kenny raised an eyebrow with a look of incredulousness, but Stan stepped in before anything bad happened,

"Science is all over the place here, Kyle. Biology is cool and all but seriously, Chemistry is impossible. Do you really remember all the things on the periodic table? I think Garrison is harsh with Science class anyway..."

"What'd I tell you guys? I beat Kenny's ass in Math! And look he's got a freakin' C+ in Music! That's a joke! How do you not do well in music class! Hold the stupid recorder and pretend to play! It's easier than Sex Ed!" Cartman laughed, "What a poor piece of shit!"

"I'm not sure what kind of sex ed you're comparing music class to, but believe me I wouldn't being the one blowing in that case." Kenny smirked as he put his report card away.

"Yeah, well-" Cartman began to reply when suddenly there was a huge blast. The kids were blown back in just a second. "The fuck was that?" Each of them got up and looked forward to see a spaceship pointed backwards, thrusters toward them, "Aw, dude, not aliens again! We just dealt with a bunch of aliens two weeks ago! Godammit!"

"Shut up, Cartman, we know this spaceship!" Kyle said, getting up as the seat opened and out walked a short African boy who seemed extremely thin and emaciated, "Starvin' Marvin! It's you!"   
He ran forward and hugged his old friend, and they were soon joined by Stan and Kenny. Cartman rolled his eyes, then reluctantly joined the group hug. "How are things on Marklar?"

"Sweeet." he quoted Cartman, "Marklar sweeet. Marvin learn much more Marklar language." he explained quickly, a few clicks appearing here and there out of habit.

"Kickass, dude!" Kyle grinned, "You can stay at my place, Marvin, but they'll all visit you, right?" he said. Stan and Kenny nodded, but Cartman crossed his arms, "Cartman will, too."

"EH! Screw you guys, I'm going home!" Cartman pointed into the direction of his house, then left them.

"...what a Marklar." Marvin rolled his own eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The street sign that stated Bonanza Street and Avenue Des Los Mexicanos was always the cut off when the boys were walking home. Stan and Kenny would always turn west towards their houses while Kyle would head north towards his house. Stan and Kenny both said goodbye to Kyle and Marvin, "Are you sure your mom won't get mad for letting Marvin stay with you?"

"No way, dude, she'll probably see it as doing good. Come on, Marvin, I'm sure you'll want to meet my brother!" Kyle grinned.

"Later then!" Stan waved as he and Kenny turned down the street to their houses. They didn't walk too far down the street when Stan noticed an unfamiliar car in front of his house, "Huh? Oh shit, are we having people over for Thanksgiving? Nice of my parents to give me a warning!" Stan rolled his eyes. Kenny laughed, "Shut up, Kenny, it's not funny, dude."

"Fft, you're lucky you even fucking know your relatives. My mom's parents still refuse to even talk to us." Kenny laughed again, much to Stan's annoyance.

"Well let's go see what's going on; hopefully it's just Uncle Jimbo and Ned." Stan said as he walked to the house, Kenny following him. He didn't know much of his family besides his father's side - but they were always around. The fact Jimbo and Randy were brothers seemed almost irrelevant at this point.

"Whatever, dude." Kenny said as they reached the stoop. Stan passed him the key and he opened up the front door. 

Stan entered the house to be met with his father, Uncle Jimbo and Ned on the couch. All three were currently engaged in the football game on the TV and screaming at the screen. shaking their fists eagerly,

"Go, Go, Go, Go! Awh, son of a bitch!" His father did not look away from the screen as he asked, "Hey, son, how was school?"

"It was okay, Dad." Stan eyed the beer can in his dad's hand - he seemed pretty distracted: perfect. "Do you think you can sign something from school for me, Dad? It's not a big deal or anything."

Stan started to pull out his report card and a pen when his dad rose from the couch and started screaming at the television again. "COME ON BRONCOS WE CAN DO IT!" He threw his beer can at the screen and splashed a bit of it on the report card Stan was trying to hand him.

"Dad, watch it! I have to turn that in." Stan said with annoyance, pulling back the report card. Ugh. Maybe now wasn't the best time for this.

"Sorry, son, you think you could get me another beer?" Randy asked with that typical childish smile.

"Fine." Stan rolled his eyes and continued onto the kitchen leaving Kenny behind. Uncle Jimbo eyed his nephew's friend.

"Kenny, my boy, long time, no see! How have things been?"

"Pretty fuckin' good." Kenny answered semi-truthfully. He had just been taken from and returned to his parents in the span of a week - the end results were pretty good. Even if he had been killed by some mysterious creature nobody remembered, "How's the Gun Shop? The TV show?"

"Oh, everything's going fine with the shop. Huntin' and Killin' got cancelled a long time ago, son. Now all the Public Access Channel does is air news programs all day since Jesus & Pals ended." Jimbo sighed, "You should watch the game with us, the Broncos are climbin' back up... slowly..."

Kenny thought for a moment, "Okay!" It wasn't like there was going to be a Thanksgiving dinner at his house until late in the night anyway. He flopped on the couch by Jimbo and Ned, "Do I get a beer, too?"

"Eh, why the hell not? It is Thanksgivin' after all! Hey Stan, mind fetching a second beer while you're up?" Jimbo called into the kitchen.

"Mmm, come on Broncos, you can do it!" Ned called at the television.

Stan sighed and passed through the kitchen all the way into the garage to sneak into where his dad kept the hard liquor. He figured since he wasn't going to get rid of his dad's relatives anytime soon he might as well do something to tolerate it. He opened his dad's garage ice cooler and grabbed a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey when he felt someone come up behind him. "Stanley what are you doing?" Sharon Marsh stood behind her son, hands on her hips and her typical frown on her face.

"Nothing, Mom, Dad... wanted me to bring him this." He gave his mom a sheepish grin and held up the bottle.

"Its four-o'-clock in the afternoon and your father already wants to get into that? How about you help me in the kitchen instead, Stanley? You always loved spending time with me, right, son?" 

Stan thought back to his beer stained report card left near his dad; he could ask his mom to sign it but she would actually look and scold him over his math grade although she hadn't caught him drinking, "Sure Mom, what did you have in mind?"

Sharon lead Stanley through the garage door into the laundry room in back of the house, opened the dryer and shoved a bunch of sheets and blankets into her son's arms. "Go strip and change the sheets in the guest bedroom, and drop off the pink twin sized sheets to your sister. We're going to have visitors coming for the holidays."

"Awh, what? Mom, come on, you didn't tell me anything about this." Stan said with annoyance as he held on to the sheets and blankets, "I thought it was just going to be us, Dad, Shelly and maybe Grandpa!" Oi. Why didn't his parents ever like to warn him about this stuff?

"We're going to have a nice family Thanksgiving, Stanley." Sharon scolded him, "Your Uncle Jimbo and Ned came, and your grandfather's upstairs, and your Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne are on their way with Cousin Stephanie. Your grandma couldn't make it because she's still in the hospital, poor thing..."

"Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne? Aw, mom, they haven't been around since I was, like, six! I don't even remember them! Do you have any idea how awkward this is going to be?" he said in anger.

"Stanley Parker Marsh, don't use that tone of voice with me! My brother's family is coming here for Thanksgiving and that is final!" she told him, then shook her head, "Stanley, I'm sorry, Mommy doesn't mean to be angry with you but I have a lot of work to do today for dinner and your father isn't exactly being helpful..." she said, "Look, just treat your aunt and uncle with the same love and respect you give your Uncle Jimbo and Ned, okay?"

Stan sighed and nodded "Fine, Mom..." She glared a little, still annoyed with his tone, "I'll go take care of the stupid sheets." he added as he went through the kitchen and then upstairs into the guest room.

He entered the rarely used guest room. Most of the furniture in there was a mismatch of crap that didn't fit anywhere else in the house, mostly stuff from when he and Shelly were babies. Old, babyish, pink book shelves, a rickety old queen sized bed, Stan's own crib with peeling paint sat in the corner, stacks of old papers and knick knacks were in it. The only used the room occasionally when his dad's drinking buddies couldn't drive and had to crash there for the night.   
Stan pulled back the comforter to be met with a nasty yellowish stain, hopefully puke from the last person who stayed there. He cursed under his breath with disgust as he quickly took off the sheets and replaced them with the clean ones. He grabbed the dirty sheets and headed towards his sister's room, but his dad caught him on his way past the stairs, "Hey, Stan, did you get my beer?"

"Mm, what about Kenny's beer?" asked Ned, looking up for just a moment before his eyes returned to the football game before him.

"No, Mom made me help her." he said through the sheets and towards the men.

Uncle Jimbo shook his head. "You need to learn how to treat your parent's guests with respect Stanley! Poor Kenny deserves a beer." 

Even Kenny was looking pointedly at Stan, even if Stan knew Kenny was about to burst into laughter at any moment. Stan looked down the stairs at his father's relatives and at the nasty sheets in his hands, and he went to the railing and threw the old sheets over the edge, hoping the puke part landed right where his dad was sitting.

"Augh! Jimbo, what happened to the game? Did someone turn the TV off?" Randy was never the sharpest pencil in the box, but this wasn't a shining moment for him regardless.

"I... I don't know, it's like we've all three been suddenly blinded!" Jimbo looked around, "Stanley, help us, we're under attack! Ned, find your-" BANG. BANG. BANG. Suddenly there were bullet holes throughout the sheet. "Oh, it's just a sheet... Ned, you can put the rifle away."

"Mmm, maybe I don't want to." Ned justified, although he put it away anyway. He looked up at Stan with Jimbo and Randy, "Mm, could you come take care of this stupid sheet?"

Stan stared down at his relatives; they were all so fucking stupid. With the nasty sheet pulled back Kenny was curled up in a ball between Jimbo and Ned, bullet holes in the couch just inches away from his body, the strings of his hoodie pulled tight. Kenny quickly checked himself for injury and quickly jumped up, following Stan up the stairs. "I'm sorry, dude, I'll stay with you. You didn't have to try and get me killed, Stan."

"What do you mean, kill you? I dropped the sheets, it was an accident." Stan justified for himself, but Kenny was still pressing,

"I'll just stick by your side the rest of the weekend. No jealousy." Kenny said quickly, hoping to secure safety with him and mooch off his friends' strange ability to... well, live.

"Jealousy? What do you mean the rest of the weekend?"

"Well, your uncle was so happy to see me again he invited me to eat dinner with your family tomorrow. I don't have any better choices so I accepted. They even wanted me to spend the night. What do you want to do first, Stan?" Kenny asked excitedly.

"I don't know. Mom's probably going to want help in the kitchen, but my Uncle and Aunt are on their way so I might be on door duty, but dad and Uncle Jimbo do want their beers... hell if I really know, dude." Stan shrugged finally. 

Before he could add anything, Kenny grinned wildly. "I'd love to help your mom in the kitchen, Stan. I hope she doesn't get any boiling water all over her shirt or anything. She might have to take it off."

Stan facepalmed at his friend's perversion. "Goddammit, Kenny, don't you have anywhere else to be for Thanksgiving?"

"No, Stan. Right now my dad and brother are probably drunk and fighting, my sister's probably in her closet reading a comic book or something with a flashlight, and my mother's probably already passed out from drinking overnight. All they're going to have for Thanksgiving dinner is a can of green beans or creamed corn that tastes like shit, and then Mom's going to blame Dad for the lack of food, or the other way around, it doesn't even matter, and then Kevin'll jump in and yell at Dad, and then Karen'll cry and they'll tell her to shut up, and then-"

"Okay, okay, fine, I get it, Kenny, your life sucks. Fine, you can stick around but stay quiet, okay?" Kenny nodded, "Good."

Stan hadn't thrown all the sheets over the railing. He eyed the pale pink ones that belonged to Shelly. "You wanna know how it is to be a part of the Marsh family Kenny? Fine. Go give these to Shelly." Stan shoved the sheets into Kenny's hands and pointed at his sister's door. "I'll wait here. See if you can actually survive that."

Kenny nodded and knocked on Shelly's door, the loud pop music that always seemed to blast through the door was lowered. "What?"

Kenny looked back at Stan with wide eyes. "Your laundry service, Miss." The door swung open and Stan observed with some surprise Kenny going through the door and it slamming shut behind him. Oh well, it was Kenny's funeral. Stan waited, checking the time on the clock in the hall. Five minutes slowly passed and the only thing that was different was the music had switched back on; Stan went up to the door and put his ear against it. He could have sworn he heard giggling. Not wanting to get into that, he headed downstairs and went straight to the kitchen, anticipating another beer run.

"Here you go." he quickly tossed beers to Jimbo, Ned and Randy, who all grinned and thanked him, then quickly began drinking as they watched the game, "Yeah, you're welcome." He then went upstairs to see Kenny had not come out of Shelly's room yet. What the hell? It'd been ten minutes now. Jesus. Should he burst in? What if Kenny was being beaten to death? He couldn't afford to lose Kenny.

Reluctantly, Stan opened the door and came in to rescue Kenny... only to see him on his stomach holding an Xbox controller next to Shelly, "You're good at this Settlers of Catan game." Kenny noted, not even having noticed Stan's arrival.

"Thanksh." she smiled, then noticed something, "My turd shenshe ish tingling..." she turned around and glared at her brother, "Get out of my room!"

"Oh, but I, uh, need Kenny's help with something...?" he lied. Shelly rolled her eyes and looked over at Kenny, as if to question him, but Kenny shrugged, and winked, 

"Be back later, Shell!" Kenny said flirtatiously before walking out with Stan, leaving Shelly bewildered and confused for a moment. "So what was it, dude?" 

"How did you-" RING. RING. "Aw, shit, that must be Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne." Stan nosebridgepinched as Shelly's door opened and she walked out, glaring at him. Old habits die hard, it seems.

"Go get the door, turd!" Shelly called. Stan sighed, glaring at her, feeling a little more confident than usual.

"Why don't you get the door, Shelly?" Shelly gave Kenny a look, then grabbed him by the legs and swung him into Stan, knocking Stan down the stairs and into the front door, before setting Kenny back down gently on his feet. Stan rubbed his head, then got up and unlocked the door, opening it to see his relatives, "Um hi, Happy Thanksgiving."

Dean S. Kimble looked a little younger than Stan's father, with jeans and a green work-shirt under a heavy brown leather jacket not unlike Randy's, and dark brown hair that was a little messy, but still maintained. Next to him was Joanne R. Kimble, a woman who looked about the same age, perhaps younger, with dark brown hair to her waist, some resting on her shoulders, wearing a brown trench coat over a pink-and-purple blouse and teal pants, and holding on to a blue handbag. And at their feet was Stephanie Kimble, a little girl in a yellow jacket with red trim and blue pants, whose gaze avoided her cousin, with curly auburn hair.

"Stanley!" Aunt Joanne swept her nephew into a tight hug that lifted him off the ground. "How is my little nephew? Auntie Joanne missed you, baby!" Stan struggled to get out of his aunts iron grip around his neck. He could hear Kenny's muffled hysterical laughter coming from somewhere in the room. Dick. Finally Uncle Dean tapped his wife on the shoulder,

"Now, honey, don't smother the poor boy, I want to say hi to him, too."

"But young boys need lots of love and reassurance from the female figures in their lives." Aunt Joanne sighed but reluctantly let her nephew go. Stan coughed and rubbed his neck as well as his head. The female figures in his life seemed to be constantly kicking his ass it seemed.

"Hi Aunt Joanne, Uncle Dean, Stephanie." His cousin glared at him from behind her parents. Aunt Joanne got down on her knees.

"It's been far too long, Stanley. You've grown up so much. You know you'll always be an adorable little boy to me though. Did you hurt your head? Maybe I should take care of you. Where is your mother?"

"No, Aunt Joanne, it's fine, you don't need to coddle me so much. Mom's in the kitchen working on dinner I think, she was doing the laundry earlier though..." Stan told her quickly, God, were all of his relatives freaks? Guess it wasn't just the Marsh family genes after all.

Aunt Joanne gave Stan one last pat on his head and walked back towards the kitchen, casting a cool glare at Randy, Jimbo and Ned. She had always looked up to her husband's older sister but the one disappointment in her eyes was the man Sharon had chosen to marry. Randy Marsh might had been cool when Sharon fell for him in high school but now, almost twenty years later, she thought her brother in law was nothing but a stupid drunk and a bad influence, who shouldn't be around his own children.

Of course she would never say this to Randy's face, but Sharon often heard over the phone from Joanne it was time she got over her teenage rebellion phase. Sharon tolerated her brother's wife, wanting to keep the family together and often used to putting up with difficult people she loved. Sharon felt at times her and Joanne's relationship would had never improved had Stan not been born.

"So Stan, how are you, champ?" Uncle Dean grinned, "I haven't seen you in years. Whatever happened to that little pink-and-blue poofball hat you used to have?" Stan rolled his eyes - he'd preferred red-and-blue, "You should drop by Park County Community College sometime and visit, huh?" Just what Stan wanted to hear about - boring lectures at a stupid college, "You remember your cousin, Scarlett?"

"Stephanie." corrected the girl, who sighed, taking the A Series of Unfortunate Events book out from under her arm and opening it to read.

"Oh, Joanne and I brought you a bunch of gifts for later since we couldn't make it for your birthday." he smiled, "A whole month of being ten, huh? You know you'll always be our little nephew! How's being ten years old treating you so far though?"

"Oh, well first everything in the entire universe turned to shit, and then my dad became a Tween Wave icon, and then all my friends abandoned me and I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a duck became President, I got to meet Morpheus from The Matrix, a bunch of Fast Food restaurant CEO's tried to kill me, my parents divorced and remarried, and now I'm an alcoholic."

Uncle Dean chuckled and ruffled his nephew's hair, knocking his hat askew. "That's my boy, always one for making up excellent stories. The Asperger's and alcoholic part especially. See Scarlett? You just sit around reading stories while your cousin can make up his own!" Dean then turned and sat down on the couch by his brothers-in-law.

"I didn't make any of that up!" Stan called after his Uncle, who was now engaging in a jovial conversation with Randy about the football game.

"My name is Stephanie, Dad!" Stan's cousin shot him a poisonous look, "You think you're so wonderful don't you, Stanley Marsh, I hope you turn out as bad as my mom says your dad is!" 

Before Stan could reply, she turned on her heel and followed her mom into the kitchen where Aunt Sharon was.

Randy scooted over to make room for Dean on the couch called out after his niece. "Hey. little girl, mind getting your Uncle Randy a fresh beer?" With that, Aunt Joanne came back out, the look on her face for Randy matching the one her daughter had for Stan.

"Oh no, you will not have my child engage in helping you with your filthy behavior. You probably don't even realize the damage you're doing to her fragile female psyche! You're lucky you have a son who can handle that sort of thing better!"

Randy sat back against the couch, next to the fresh bullet holes. "Um, come again?"

"You didn't even understand a word I just said did you! I can't believe you remarried him again Sharon! Not only do I have a masters in early childhood psychology but I have seen firsthand experience of how addiction can tear a family apart! I've never touched alcohol or smoked and my family turned out just fine!" Stan could see Stephanie look up from reading at the kitchen table and roll her eyes before going back to her book.

"Of course I understand! I'm, uh, damaging her... brain... but Stan's brain is okay!" Randy said with annoyance, trying to argue in his favor, "Like, duh, of course I knew that! I'm no bad influence on your kid! I raised Stan and look how great he turned out! He just has a developmental disorder but otherwise he's fine!" 

Joanne turned back into the kitchen, came back with a plate, and proceeded to drop it. "A developmental disorder! Obviously the years of your drinking and your emotional abuse has taken a toll on the poor boy!" Joanne ran forward and picked up Stan, hugging her so tightly against his body he was feeling some serious claustrophobia, "Poor Stanley, how do you endure living with this... man-child? Your poor, sweet little thing, it's okay, Auntie Jo will make it all better!" she said, looking and glaring at Randy, "What disorder does he have?"

"Mmm isn't it the one named after a sandwich?" Ned asked, taking a sip from his beer, as with the commercials on, he was no longer entranced by the game.

"No, Ned, I think it's that one named after a rear end." Jimbo chuckled, "Heheh, rear end. Who'd name a disease something like that? That's just mean..."

"Oh right, I remember now, Ass Burgers!" Randy snapped his fingers, "That's one, Ass Burgers!" 

Joanne put Stan down, returned to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, took out a carton of milk, then opened the cabinet, took out a glass, poured milk into it, put the carton back, and drank the milk. And then, she spat it all out. "ASPERGER'S SYNDROME?"

Sharon appeared behind Joanne finally getting sick of all the commotion. "Randy calm down! I had to tell Stanley to treat my family with respect, I shouldn't have to tell you.' She gave her sister in law another stern look, but trying to make peace. "Joanne, please stop wasting the milk. I need to save it to make Stanley's favorite potato dish for tomorrow."

"How can you let an Asperger's Syndrome diagnosis slip by until he was ten years old? Sharon I could have helped you with that!"

"I think it was a misdiagnosis, Joanne, Stanley is perfectly fine."

"But you need a second opinion at least!" Joanne said, panicking slightly until her husband rose up from the couch,

"Joanne, honey, I think you should be the one to calm down. You owe Randy, Sharon and Stanley all an apology. This is their house after all. Come on; let's go have a nice talk out in the front yard. I think we owe a certain boy a birthday present or two anyway." Uncle Dean took Aunt Joanne's hand and led her out to the car, winking at his nephew. Maybe his Uncle was the okay one on his mom's side of the family.

"Sharon, why'd you have to invite your relatives?" Randy asked, crossing his arms, but Sharon put up a hand, not willing to hear any of it. He crossed his arms and looked to Jimbo and Ned, "Either of you know what this Asperger's thing is anyway?" 

Stan rolled his eyes, ignoring the adults and walking upstairs to find Kenny - Shelly's door was closed again. "Awh, dude, weak!" 

Before he could open the door he heard a voice, "Billy, is that you? Billy, this is Grandpa, you gotta let me out of here. Your father locked me in my bedroom and took away my cane and my wheelchair." Would his father really be so cruel? "How am I supposed to kill myself with nothing but a bed, a dresser that's bolted to the ground and locked windows?" Maybe his dad was right.

"Uhh, I don't have a key, Grandpa, how about I just go get Dad?" Stan walked loudly in place to give the illusion of leaving, then pressed his ear to Shelly's door to make out Kenny and Shelly's voices.

"What a little cocksucker..." he heard his Grandpa mumble. Asshole.

Stan kept quiet until his grandpa's ranting died down. Maybe later he'd drop off a beer into grandpa's room to keep him occupied; right now he had more pressing matters. What the hell could Kenny possibly be doing with his sister in there; Stan had his own Xbox in his room. Kenny sure didn't waste any time making himself at home. Stan had half a mind to go hang around Kenny's house to see how he liked it, but remembering last Christmas made him stop from finishing that thought. Suddenly another ugly thought crossed his mind. He had to get Kenny away from Shelly, nothing would be worse than his second best friend fooling around with his sister.

Well one thing would be worse... Stan hurriedly pounded on his sister's door. "Kenny! My mom wants you to help in the kitchen she's..." Stan nosebridgepinched for what was about to come out of his mouth. "She needs help boiling spaghetti noodles!" 

The door burst open as Kenny ran down the stairs as if he was going to win a million dollars. Stan was somewhat shocked that had worked so well.

"Ugh, turd, why do you alwaysh have to shcare off all the deshent people who show up with your shtupid turdly derpedlynesh... Jeshush fucking Chrisht..." Shelly sighed, turning off her Xbox, "Do you need shomething, or are you bothering me jusht for shitsh and gigglesh?"

Stan narrowed his eyes. Some things were worth severe beatings. "Stay away from Kenny for the rest of his stay here. He's my friend and my guest, you got that?" Shelly started to get up cracking her knuckles, Stan grabbed her laundry basket and overturning it, hoping it would slow her down a bit. He bolted down the stairs. She couldn't hit him too hard if his parents were there. He wondered what Aunt Joanne would think of how Shelly treated him. Maybe she could get Shelly to stop all together.

"Stanley, there you are!" Sharon said, "Your aunt and uncle just came in with your birthday presents!" she grinned, leading Stan into the front room - Ned, Jimbo, Randy and Dean sat on the couch, Joanne in the middle, and they had several boxes for him. Stephanie was reading in the corner. "Well, open one up, Stanley!" 

He opened up a small box quickly, "What the hell is this?" Stan held out a lacy pink skirt, "Uhh, Aunt Joanne did you accidentally pack me one of your skirts or something?" 

Joanne giggled like a schoolgirl at this, although Jimbo looked at Randy more like a concerned parent than Randy himself looked, "Actually, your Uncle Dean got that for you!" she said, giggling. 

Stan looked down, and then pushed it aside, proceeding to the next present, Sharon opened her mouth but Joanne stopped her, "Sharon, he's just excited to see his gifts. He can thank us afterwards." Stan didn't plan on thanking anyone for a skirt. He shook the box - this was legos! It had to be! He tore the paper - no. Duplo blocks. Those giant 'kid-friendly' legoes.

"No..." Stan tossed it aside and opened the next box, tearing the wrapping paper to see a knockoff Barbie doll and a pink unicorn with rainbow laces, "Aw, come on, what am I, fucking five?" 

Sharon stepped forward, looking quite furious but Dean got up and put his hands on her shoulders, "Come on, sis, it's perfectly natural for him to react like this." Sharon raised an eyebrow as he let one arm fall and took her a little aside from the others, "Clearly, your son has been brought up in a male-dominated household, isn't comfortable with his gender, and needs to explore his feminine side more to achieve a better balance and a sense of self. He thinks he has to be a certain way, and he needs to learn he can be whatever he wants to be. Being a man doesn't mean you should be afraid of feminine things."

"...Dean, this is far from a male-dominant household. In case, you haven't noticed, most of the house is purple." Sharon put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at her brother,

"Come on, sis, it's perfectly natural for him to react like this." Sharon raised an eyebrow as he let one arm fall and took her a little aside from the others, "Clearly, your son has been brought up in a male-dominated household, isn't comfortable with his gender, and needs to explore his feminine side more to achieve a better balance and a sense of self. He thinks he has to be a certain way, and he needs to learn he can be whatever he wants to be. Being a man doesn't mean you should be afraid of feminine things." 

"...oh, Dean, for God's sake, are you wearing those fucking rainbow tube socks again?" Sharon asked angrily, crossing her arms, "You will not come into my house and tell me how to raise my child, do you hear me?" she sighed, "Look, you're family, and you're always welcome in this house, and I can't morally stop you from seeing your nephews and nieces - what kind of a parent would I be then? - but don't you tell me how to raise my kids. Remember Dean." Sharon's eyes narrowed, "Old habits die hard."

Stan, meanwhile, reached his fourth and final gift, the biggest, tearing off the wrapping paper absentmindedly when to his shock, "Holy shit, a Kinect for the Xbox? AND a copy of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3? Thanks Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne!" He grinned with glee. Okay, three duds, but at least the good gift was freakin' sweet. Maybe things could work out with the Kimbles? 

Stan looked in awe and started pulling the cellophane off the Kinect box. Sharon also looked in shock at the expensive gift her brother had gotten for her son. "What do you say, Stanley?"

"Are you sure the other three gifts aren't for Shelly?" he asked honestly.

"Stanley!"

Stan smiled, "Kidding. Thank you, Uncle Dean, Aunt Joanne and Stephanie. I really appreciate it."

"Just don't appreciate it too much, Stan." Jimbo mumbled under his breath as he went to get another beer.

Shelly had been enjoying her brother getting shitty gifts but instantly grew angry at the Kinect system. She didn't have one. "Hey what about me?"

Aunt Joanne put her hand over her mouth, "Oh dear, it seems we forgot Shelly..."

"No problem." Uncle Dean took out his wallet and handed Shelly a $50 bill. "Have fun!"

"Wow thanksh!" Shelly gave her Aunt and Uncle a quick hug and then was gone, leaving Kenny standing in the corner. Uncle Dean took notice of him for the first time.

"And who are you?"

"I'm Kenny, the honorary nephew!"

"Oh well, here you go." Kenny couldn't believe his luck as another $50 bill was placed in his hand.

"Now go enjoy yourself, kid!"

Kenny's eyes grew wide and he let out a loud "Who hoo!" Both Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne beamed. "All is well then! Let's go eat!"

The family shuffled into the kitchen, leaving Kenny and Jimbo behind. Jimbo opened his own wallet and gave Kenny a $20 bill, whispering "That's from me and Ned Kenny, now make sure you get rid of the skirt before Stanley gets any weird ideas with it. Bad enough I'm getting him a tranquilizer hunting gun for Christmas..."


	3. Chapter 3

Stan and Kenny rose up rather early - well, by Stan and Kenny standards, and were in the Marsh's kitchen eating breakfast, two bowls of Fruit Loops, only because SOMEONE forgot to get Cocoa Pebbles at the store for Stan, even though he'd asked super nicely. Not that Kenny cared. How often did he get non-cheapo cereals? The only person they'd seen was Sharon in a robe that was far too thick and loose-fitting for Kenny's liking, sleepily pouring herself some coffee. "...and then at the end of the dream, Wendy and Bebe totally made out."

"Kenny, you're a real sick bastard." Stan said with a glare, then stopped for a moment, "...maybe that's why my family likes you so much." he sighed.

"Probably. I think that's what your uncle called me that time we went out camping and that volcano went off and destroyed half of Denver." Kenny said, "Or maybe he said I was a little bastard? Something with the word "bastard" in it. I hear that word a lot, you know."

"You do?" Stan said. Kenny shook his head; he'd never get it, would he?

"Of course, more from Kyle than you." Kenny mumbled under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stan asked.

"Nothing." Kenny made a show of slurping the rest of his milk and got up to look into the pantry to see what other kinds of cereal the Marsh family had. Sharon smiled at them as she exited the kitchen, Shelly and Stephanie entering. Shelly scowled at all of them as she poured herself some orange juice and headed to the TV room to turn on the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Her hair was frazzled and she had a giant retainer still in her mouth from sleep but Kenny looked past all that to notice something else - she wasn't wearing a bra. He forgot about cereal sampling and followed her to the living room leaving Stan and Stephanie alone.

Stan was still pondering what made Kenny so sensitive to the word "bastard" when they ripped on each other all the time. Shouldn't he get angrier at being called poor? He was about to ask when he looked up to see Stephanie had taken a seat across from him. "You want some cereal?" She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing; she looked him over, like she was trying to figure something out. Awkward. "There's uh... more milk in the fridge?"

She continued to stare him down. He opened his mouth to try and make small talk again when she pulled the thick book out and slammed it down in front of her, like a wall between them. Stan pushed his cereal bowl aside and yanked down her book to get her to look at him again. "What the hell is your problem, Stephanie? Did you hear something about me?"

"You really want to know what my problem with you is, dear, dear cousin?" she spat, that last address to him almost vicious. Stephanie meant business - she wasn't just screwing with his mind like Cartman might; she hated him, for whatever reason, but she meant it.

"Yes, now tell me what the hell the issue is!"

"Okay, fine." she inhaled deeply, then exhaled, "You are a terrible person. Every adult thinks you're so special and such a unique, thoughtful person but you're not. You're just a whiny, cynical little snotrag and yet somehow, you've fooled everyone into thinking you're Mr. Intelligent. And the worst thing about is you're not even special at all - you have no talent or character, you're just a dumb everyman. You're a mediocre athlete, you're a pussy animal lover who can't shoot but can eat a burger. Worst of all, you're an attention whore, making up stupid stories about seeing shit everywhere! And top it all off, you're totally negative and can't see the good in anyone or anything. Frankly, you're a know-it-all douchebag."

Stan let go of her book and it popped back up. Damn, he shouldn't have asked. Who was she, judging him like that? He took a deep breath exhaling through his nose. He could be cool about this. "Did Shelly tell you all this?" He and Kenny had a pretty interesting talk before they fell asleep, did she get all this from spending the night in Shelly's room?

"No, from my parents. Please leave me alone."

"Wait, Aunt Joanne and Uncle Dean have been super cool to me since they got here. Did they tell you all that?"

"Of course they've been super cool to you, you're their only nephew. They think you're wonderful." She got up and walked out on to the back porch.

"Wait, don't go out there, its freezing cold."

"Don't you get it, Stanley? I just don't want to be around you. I'm the only one who can see things for what they are around here."

With that she slammed the glass door shut, walking out into the snowy yard. Stan sat stunned. His mom wanted him to get along with her family but he had to get her back somehow. She wasn't much bigger than him and didn't seem as freakishly strong as Shelly, but he couldn't hit a girl. Wait, she was around the same age as him. her last words seemed oddly familiar.

Sharon walked back into the kitchen to grab some more coffee. "What happened to Stephanie? You kids should come watch the parade."

"She wanted some fresh air I think. Mom, just how old is my cousin?"

"Well I had you in October, Stanley. I think Joanne had her about a month after. She's probably going to have her tenth birthday soon. I can't recall the exact date." Stan's suspicions were true - he screamed Stephanie's words in a movie theatre almost a month ago causing his friends to abandon him. Stephanie was a cynic, she had to be! Stan got up to watch her through the back door. She was shivering and trying to read standing up. He was used to things happening to him and not being believed, and he wouldn't be like his asshole friends and give up on her when she was a bummer. He'd include her, no matter how shitty she found things. He'd let her in on the cure.

Her problem however was he was one of the things she saw as shitty. He'd have to do some careful maneuvering to make sure she was still included. "Hey, Mom I think you should go out there and get her, she probably doesn't want to miss the parade."

"You're such a caring boy, Stanley. Go on and watch the parade in the living room with your sister and Kenny." Oh Christ, he'd almost forgotten about that. He threw his and Kenny's bowls in the sink and hurried into the living room.

Kenny was sitting next to Shelly close to the television, and rather than the Macy's Day Thanksgiving Parade they'd switched over to something else, "I dunno, I've only seen Friends once or twice, dude, isn't it the one with the three guys, and the three girls, and one of them is Jennifer Aniston?"

"Thatsh the one!" Shelly grinned, "Itsh one of my favorite showsh. Buffy, Friendsh and Russhell Crowe. Itsh like the a trio of aweshomenesh. If shomebody could mixsh all three showsh into one, I'd jusht freakin' die of happinesh." she clapped with joy.

Stan observed his sister lean over and Kenny attempting to sneak a peek down her sleep top. He face palmed as he quickly went to the couch and squeezed in between them. "I don't think Kenny cares to watch your Friends DVDs with you."

Kenny leaned into the tv enthusiastically. "I don't mind, dude, Jennifer Aniston was pretty hot back then!"

"But I wanna watch the lame ass parade?" Stan said weakly.

Kenny ignored Stan and talked over his head to Shelly. "You know, Shelly, you kinda look like Jennifer Aniston."

"Dude shut the fuck up and put the stupid parade on." Stan smacked Kenny on the head lightly when he immediately felt several hard smacks on the top of his head.

"Ow, ow, ow." He quickly got off the couch to switch the TV channel, and also to get out of hitting range from his bitch sister.

"Kenny can hang out with me if he wants, turd!"

"Kenny can I talk to you?" Stan rubbed his head as he pulled Kenny away towards the stairs. "Dude what the fuck Kenny! You can't be serious! She's my gross, bitchy sister! Besides she hits really hard!" Suddenly Stan was struck with an idea.

"No way, dude, if you ignore the fugly braces, she's pretty hot." Kenny said with a quick nod, "I mean, she's already growing boobs and everything. I bet she's gonna look like your mom when she gets older. Is she over that Larry kid yet?" Kenny clearly didn't even seem to have heard what Stan said.

"Who's Larry?"

"The weird vegan kid? Weren't they dating? Brad Dixon told Butters they were." Kenny said. "Come on, Stan, you had to remember Larry. Maybe if you took more of an interest in your sister's love problems you'd get along better."

"No, you'd just hit on anything female with a pulse. Just a question, what's with the older chicks thing? Why not go after a girl in our class?"

"Uh, Stan, bro, come on, you're smart, you can figure it out, can't you?" Kenny crossed his arms, "Older girls have BOOBS. The only girls in our class with boobs are your girlfriend and Bebe Stevens, and Clyde's dating her, and Bro Code means I can't even sit by Wendy. I mean, don't get me wrong, the girls in our class are hot in their own ways and all that shit, but if I had to pick between an older chick with a good rack and a girl my age, you know where I'd go."

"If you're going on about bro code I think there should be a big rule about sisters, moms and other female family members!"

"You know in Harry Potter, Harry totally bangs his best friend's sister and stuff. So after that, the Bro Code was revised to remove that rule." Kenny stuck his tongue out triumphantly.

"That's fucked up dude. You and Kyle really need to give The Bubble Gum Prince a try. It's just pure adventure, none of that weird shit."

"I think the guy who wrote that killed himself. God, is it just me or does every writer have low self-esteem? I swear it's like all they do is write their shitty stories and fill them with all sorts of self-deprecating humor." Kenny looked forward for a moment.

"At least a guy wrote the Bubble Gum Prince! I don't understand when girls write stories about boys especially the teen years. They don't really know how guys act. If a guy wrote Harry Potter, Ron would have a serious problem with his best friend dating his sister! Stay away from mine, asshole!" Stan glared at Kenny. If Thanksgiving was going to be this bad, maybe he should spend Hanukah with Kyle before they settled in for a Christmas adventure.

"Dude, I don't even read those faggy Harry Potter books, Kyle's the one that reads them. I think Cartman read the last one just to spoil it for Kyle." Kenny noted, "And I'm not staying away from your sister. She's not defenseless - if she wants me to go away, she'll get rid of me. I can take a punch, unlike you." Line crossed.

"I'm not sure where exactly I started getting the pussy label but I could kick your ass. I just chose not to."

Stephanie passed the boys on the stairs. "You are so lame, Stanley."

"Hey, you like to read, Stephanie. You ever read The Bubble Gum Prince?"

"I did, I found it stupid, boring and I could predict the ending half way through. It was just not very clever and I'd rather focus my time reading something good, you know? I understand why a person like you would enjoy it though. Also Kenny could totally kick your ass."

"What?"

"He could kick your ass and he should. I have no clue how you can even keep friends with someone as needy and codependent as you." Stephanie shouted the last bit as she walked up stairs.

"Your cousin wants me, dude."

"Kenny..." Stan sighed, rolling the option over in his mind. "You know it would be the lesser of two evils. Why don't you try to talk to her seeing as my entire family hates me?"

"Your entire family does not hate you Stan, your Aunt really, really, really likes you and your Uncle seems to be as normal as your mom."

"Hey, you're right, go try to talk to Stephanie, not Shelly. I'll try to ask Uncle Dean for advice."

"Hmm... I'll do it. For five bucks." Kenny held out his hand. Stan sighed and forked over three dollars, because he wasn't blowing all his money on his cousin. "Cheapskate. All right fine, I'll take care of it. You go talk to your Uncle Dean." Kenny nodded, going up the stairs to work his magic. Stan sighed and went to go see his Uncle when he heard his phone ring and answered it,

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude, it's Kyle. Where the hell are you? Marvin's only here for a few days and so far I'm the only one who's been spending any time with him. And where's Kenny? I tried to call his family but his mom just started going off about how much of an asshole Kenny's dad is and how she should've married some other guy instead. I know where Cartman is, I'd rather not have him around right now."

"Yeah fighting's in Kenny's blood. Well physical fighting anyway. You think I could take Kenny in a fight, right dude?"

"Um why do you ask?"

"Just be honest, Kyle."

"I don't know, Kenny's kinda scrappy and ruthless, like he'd be kind of a dirty fighter. You are soft however."

"Soft? What the hell does that mean? Do you think you could take Kenny?"

"Oh yeah I could kick Kenny's ass."

"But we're evenly matched!"

Kyle laughed."Why do you even ask, dude?"

"Kenny invited himself to spend Thanksgiving with my family and he's driving me crazy. He won't stop hitting on my sister."

"Oh wow, can't help you there."

"But I thought you liked Harry Potter!"

"Um what? If he's pissing you off kick him out of your house then. Then come see me and Marvin."

"I can't do that. Kenny may want to hit on every chick on the room no matter how disgusting but I can't just throw him out and send him back to his fighting family on a holiday!"

"And you wonder why we call you a pussy."

"Shut up, Kyle! You know you can just take care of Marvin yourself, you have no idea how much I have on my plate right now! My mom's nagging me, my aunt's coddling me, my sister's hitting me, my cousin's hating me, my dad and uncles are drinking on me... why is everything in my family always about me?"

"I don't know, didn't they leave you alone that whole two weeks when your dad thought Broadway was totally awesome?"

"Goddamnit, Kyle, you're not helping." Stan sighed, "Look, I have to go; my Uncle Dean seems sane enough. Maybe he can help me out. Call me back when you're not just bitching about taking care of an Ethiopian."

"Stan, come on, dude, you're his friend, too, why do you have to be such a dick about this?"

"I'm being a dick?"

"Yeah you are, Stan. Stop thinking about yourself and care about others, it's the fucking holiday season."

Stan rolled his eyes, half considering just hanging up on Kyle. "I am caring. I'm trying to keep my family together so they don't kill each other with the wild card of Kenny thrown in the mix."

"I consider you family as well, Stan, the part of your family that is actually liked and wanted. Don't forget about me and Marvin."

"Fine, I'll be stuck with my family the rest of the day but maybe we can all hang out tomorrow. Marvin too. Cartman of course."

"Ugh."

"You have your own person in our chosen family you don't get along with either." Stan said.

"Cartman's different. Nobody likes him." Kyle answered with annoyance, "He bends his mind so he thinks everyone does, but come on, I bet even his mom would ditch him in a Wal-Mart if she had the chance."

"Dude, come on, that is absolutely true, but you don't need to say it aloud, that's kind of harsh. I mean, doesn't Butters like Cartman? They're always off doing stuff together."

"No way, Butters hates Cartman, too, he's just too much of a pussy to say it to his face." Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I know a few blood family members I'd like to leave in a Walmart." Stan nodded at his Aunt as she sleepily came down the stairs in a fuzzy pink robe. She smiled and landed a kiss on her nephew's head. "Are you sure you're old enough to use the phone by yourself, sweetie?"

Stan made a face at his aunt. "Yes, I'm allowed to use the phone. I'm talking to my best friend. "

"I want to know everything about you and your little friends, I only became a child psychologist to study how boys act and socialize. I want to meet your little friends, I'm sure they're all just as sweet as you are, Stanley."

Stan could hear hysterical laughter coming from Kyle's end of the line. "Dude, who the fuck is that?"

"I'll call you back Kyle, come to my house with Marvin tomorrow morning." He muttered into the phone as he slammed it down. His Aunt was still looking at him expectantly. He'd show his aunt a thing or two. "Sure, Aunt Joanne you can meet all my friends. You'll especially like my friend Eric Cartman."

"I'm sure I would. Your little friend Kenny is pretty interesting. I think that boy has a real lack of older female positive reinforcement. When I gave him a hug he didn't want to let go."

"Yeah Aunt Joanne Kenny is really desperate for your...reinforcement. Is Uncle Dean awake?"

"Oh, well, he's still in bed but he's not asleep anymore." Joanne noted, "How about you go talk to him? You could use some positive male reinforcement in your life from an actual positive male role model, especially one that doesn't spend all day drinking."

"Thanks, Aunt Joanne." Stan nodded, running off towards the bedroom his aunt and uncle were in right now. Joanne shrugged. Oh well. Stan entered to see his uncle covered under the blanket, reading a historical novel held up by a sleeveless arm. "Hey Uncle Dean."

"Hello there, Stanley, or do you prefer Stan these days? You seem to be getting older."

Stan smiled as he sat at the edge of the bed. "Yeah actually I do, all my friends call me Stan. Only my mom calls me Stanley, usually when I'm in trouble." Wow so this is how it felt to have an intelligent and interesting father figure.

"Well Stan, do you know anything about the Civil War?"

"Oooh, lots." Stan said, "You know that second one two years ago? I was there. I got to be Jefferson Davis at the end and I surrendered, it was hella cool!" Dean raised an eyebrow, then laughed,

"Awh, that's my nephew, making up great stories! You should consider being a writer, you get to be creative for a living and then you get really depressed and try to shoot yourself."

"Uncle Dean, why do some famous writers go on to kill themselves? My ex girlfriend was always going on about that Sylvia Plath chick and her oven."

"I don't really know, Stan, it just seems there's something about writing that's just really depressing. Just wait until you're older, the kind of books they make you read in school - All My Sons, 1984, The Lottery, Animal Farm, The Crucible..." Dean shook his head, "Ah you had a girl, Stan? Lucky boy! What happened with that?"

"I... I don't really know. Just... some stuff happened last month and... I guess we grew apart is all. I was off doing my thing, and she was off doing her thing, and Kyle's off doing his thing, and Cartman's being a racist bastard, and I guess we both just realized you know... it's the fourth grade. It's not like it'd have lasted anyway. I mean, come on, who has a girlfriend in the fourth grade?" Stan laughed nervously.

"I met your Aunt Joanne in elementary school."

"Really, you did?" Stan raised an eyebrow, "What were you and her like back then?"

"Well I was a lot like you, hell Stan I pretty much was you. I did okay in school, excelled at history, was athletic and would try to join any sport I could, I had my little girlfriend but it wasn't very serious and we broke up every other week. But she blew me away with how smart and beautiful she was. But we didn't have anything serious until we were much older."

Uncle Dean was pretty cool. Stan rolled over so he was lying on his stomach on the bed and propped his chin up on his elbows, trying not to think of Wendy growing up into Aunt Joanne. Well both had bossy tendencies and were heavily into their educations. Maybe Uncle Dean could give legitimate girl advice, who else did Stan have to turn to? His dad? Kenny? Hoping Chef's ghost or a giant clitoris would show up again? "So tell me more about when you were my age, Uncle Dean."

Uncle Dean chuckled and carefully placed a bookmark into his novel. "Well when I was in 6th grade I took a white rose and stuck it in the little slots of her locker. She loved it but my friends at the time made fun of me for weeks. It's typical male bravado to show girls you care about the exact opposite."

Stan blinked. "Huh. Who knew? What did you do about your friends making fun of you for liking a girl?"

"Oh they were no problem. The person who was really pissed off was your mother. I took the rose from a bouquet she got from some guy at her high school."

Stan found the mental picture of the two fighting pretty amusing, "How did Aunt Joanne react? Was she happy or did she feel indifferent? Was she super happy or just kind of meh about it?" Stan asked.

"Oh, well, she thought it was really sweet actually." Dean smiled, "She was pretty happy about it, but she was so busy at the end of High School and stuff, we didn't get to spend a lot of time together. Sometimes I'm surprised we're still together." he shrugged a bit.

"Oh god everyone in this family likes to divorce and get back together don't they? Lawyers love the Marsh family for the money they can make off of us. I know, my best friend's dad is a lawyer, he loves money."

Uncle Dean smiled and sat up in bed, stretching a bit, Stan noticed for the first time what his Uncle's sleeping attire was. "The real secret to impressing women is... What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The reason was probably because he was wearing pink panties and, worse, a lacy matching bra, with a strap down his arm in a way that would probably be quite seductive, that is if it wasn't a forty-something man in the outfit.

Stan gagged a bit as he quickly jumped off the bed, disgusted not only at his hairy Uncle but also with himself for attempting to trust an adult and once again being screwed over by it. "Yeah, you should know all about what women want if you want to be one." Stan slowly backed towards the door as his Uncle got out of bed and put on a matching lacy pink robe, something Stan had thought belonged to his aunt.

"Stan, it's not like that, it's called cross-dressing and it's perfectly-" Stan didn't wait to hear the rest. He ran the hell out of that room and towards Stephanie and Shelly's room, where both girls and Kenny looked to be playing Xbox. Shelly got up, glared, and shut the door as Kenny waved uncaringly. Stan looked down, shook the handle, knocked, sighed, and then raced down the stairs to the couch where his father, uncle and his uncle's heterosexual life partner were drinking beers together.

"Stan, Stan, is everything okay son? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" Cue rimshot. Randy looked at his son with the kind of concern a good parent gives their child when they're looking severely traumatized. Stan just pointed towards the bedroom - Randy and Jimbo exchanged glances. "Jesus, do you think he walked in on Joanne and Dean getting it on?"

"Mm, I think I'd be traumatized too." Ned said. Dean came down the stairs in his robe. He looked slightly embarrassed at first, then grinned and approached them,

Randy did a double take at his brother in law as he spat out beer. Stan was trying his best to hide behind his father and the couch. Both Jimbo and Ned drew their guns as Uncle Dean stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his frilly pink robe swaying open. "Guys there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." Jimbo waved his weapon, sneering, while both his brother and nephew ducked,

"Just what the fuck is goin' on here, Dean?" Jimbo asked, "You trying to turn my nephew into a goddamn pansy? Isn't he already enough of a pussy without your sick shit?" Regardless of Jimbo and Stan's relationship, Jimbo was clearly protective of his nephew, and Ned was loyal enough to Jimbo not to question this defense.

"Sick shit?" Dean's eyes narrowed now, "You're all ignorant. Bravo. I'm a cross-dresser, what a big secret." he rolled his eyes, "So what if I like to dress up in women's' clothes? We all have our little things that make us who we are, and it's perfectly normal for one to explore their sexuality. Why should it matter if I'm in a dress or pants? Gender is about what's between your legs, not how you act." he explained, "And I'm not forcing a thing on little Stanley here, he's free to make his own choices - although his uncle would like to encourage he do some exploration at least - we were having a perfectly civil conversation. So put your rifle down already, Jesus fucking Christ."

"Okay that's it, Stanley, hold my beer." Randy shoved the bottle into his son's hand as he got up. "I don't really care what excuses you're trying to give you're not going to do that sick crap in my house or you can get the hell out, Thanksgiving or not."

"What are you going to do about it?" Dean smirked.

"I'll kick your ass is what I'll do. Jimbo and Ned will back me up and they're Vietnam vets."

"Oh I've lectured quite a bit to my students about 20th Century wars. You wanna fight brother in law, go ahead!" Dean widened his legs in a combat position, the robe still open.

"Dude this is pretty fucked up right here!" Stan said from behind the couch before ducking behind it again. Jimbo cocked his gun, as did Ned.

"We ain't afraid of a man who runs around in pink panties!" he called, holding the weapon straight at him.

"You two were in Vietnam, I'm sure you're quite familiar with a fighting style called Jungle Warfare. Randy?" Dean replied. Randy shook his head, pulled back his arm and then pushed forward to punch Dean when he quickly kicked Randy right in the shin. Randy went down, gripping his shin and howling in pain. Dean then kneed Randy under the jaw, causing him to fly up and land in pain. Randy tried to grab Dean's leg but he shook it off. Kicking Randy again, and leaving him on the floor, Dean rubbed his hands together and returned to the bed, picking up his book.

Stan, Jimbo and Ned all stared down at Randy coughing and curled up in the fetal position as Dean went back up the stairs. Stan carefully set his dad's beer can next to his head. "Thanks for sticking up for me, Dad, I guess. You okay?"

"Staaaan? Don't tell your mother about this."

"I won't, Dad." Stan started up the stairs as Jimbo helped Randy stand up. "On second thought..." Stan mumbled to himself he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. He smiled at his mom and Aunt preparing food in the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He chugged half of it opened the garage door. He could fill half of the can with Jameson to try and get through the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

Stan sat at his computer desk, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the sweet, syrupy rush of alcohol coursing through his veins. He was trying to hold back his gag reflex, one of the more annoying side effects of chugging a soda that was half whiskey. He wondered if his dad had wanted to throw up this much when he started drinking. Stan had a new found respect for his dad, getting his ass kicked to defend him. Of course it had proved ineffective as ever but Stan could give an "A" for the effort. It was the most he could ask for; someone trying their best even if they failed. Look, the effects of the alcohol were working already!

Stan's couldn't help but smile, even if he was nauseated. He laughed as he pushed himself back from the desk in his chair and whirled around slowly. Any faster and probably would blow chunks. Oh, the fun one can have alone by themselves in their room when mildly buzzed. No one in the house really wanted his company anyway. He stopped mid whirl in the chair, and frowned as he faced the pile of birthday gifts by the door. The skirt was on top. Uncle Dean said he was just like him when he was ten years old. It was bad enough Stan worried he'd be like his own dad when he grew up but given the choice he'd be his dad rather than his weird uncle.

His eyes scanned his bedroom, very boyish in every way, even though the walls were painted a hideous shade of purple. Left over from when his mom had had the brilliant idea to paint the living room that color. He remembered trying to protest but his mom putting her foot down, accepting no excuses and saying he should be grateful his parents would go through the trouble of repainting his room.

Being forced to have purple walls was one thing, but being given a pink skirt with the strong implication he should go out in public wearing it? That was just too much. He had to get rid of it. A month ago he would have passed it off to Wendy; she always liked frilly stuff like that. Who could he give it to now? Butters? Butters would probably like it but the teasing that poor dumbass would receive was way too cruel to put him through.

He couldn't think of many other options, but Stan's thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at his door, "Uh, dude, Stan, you in there?" Stan raised an eyebrow and sat up as Kenny poked his head into the doorway.

"Oh, it's my very good FRIEND Kenny. At least, I thought you were my good friend but with my sister around I'm nonexistent, not that I'm already used to that. God, you're even worse than that asshole, Butters." Kenny shook his head, "What? You think I'm kidding? You're a dick, dude. Just a total... dick. Fuck you, okay? Just... fuck you! Stop trying to take over my family! It's my family, not yours! You don't see me trying to go to your family and be all cool and likeable and stuff!" Stan said, jumping up and going over and poking Kenny in the chest, "Are you listening to me, man?"

Kenny rolled his eyes as he carefully closed Stan's bedroom door: he'd wanted to spend Thanksgiving with the Marshes to avoid this kind of stuff. Stan was lucky Kenny was used to dealing with drunk people. "Come on, Stan, you don't mean that. You're being assholish enough to get along with my family though. Come on, dude, why don't you sleep it off until dinner starts before you get in trouble?"

"Kenny, I know I've never told you this before but... you're a fuckin' dick, man. I mean it. You're a total dick. You're even worse than Cartman. All you do is just mooch off everyone and then you run off whenever we actually need help! Whenever we're on an adventure you just disappear. And people say I'm the pussy! Look at right now - you're just mooching off my family and my presents and our food and as soon as something goes wrong, you'll run off like the pussy you are!"

Kenny tried to keep his composure, even though Stan had just delivered one of the lowest of low blows for him, "You f- Godammit, Stan, you're so shit-faced drunk you're saying things you don't mean." Even though he was choosing his words carefully, one could definitely hear the anger in his tone. If he didn't know Stan was so drunk he could barely stand, he'd probably be ready to murder him about now, "Look, Stan, there are some things you just don't fucking understand and you need to accept that, okay? I would never, ever try to mooch off you. Maybe Kyle or Cartman but not you." The cynical part of Kenny's brain was screaming liar, liar, "I promise you, I won't run off before I help you work things out with Stephanie, okay? If I do, I will come right back here and try again, okay? Do you fucking hear me?"

Stan stumbled as he backed off Kenny. "You're right dude, you're better than me. That's why my family likes you so much."

"Come on, dude, it'll be okay. You should lie down." Kenny reached to grab Stan by the shoulder to lead him to his bed but Stan violently shrugged him off as he stepped away from him, falling backwards on top of his pile of birthday gifts. Kenny stood over his friend, hands on his hips. "You can't handle your liquor for shit."

"Why don't you just leave me alone, you're doing a better job than me fitting into my family so why don't you just take my place at Thanksgiving dinner and maybe forever? I don't like myself very much right now."

"What, are you trying to get yourself in trouble?" Kenny landed a small kick to Stan's side as his friend curled into a ball and groaned. "You don't want to be yourself? Fine. Be me for a bit and try sleeping on the floor. I'll be you and play with your sweet Kinect system in your warm, rat-free room with forty fucking boxes filled with Legos." Kenny grabbed the Kinect box sitting on the shelf and stomped over to the TV. He saw a Lego Star Wars X-Wing Fighter sitting on the shelf and picked it up, throwing it on top of Stan so little colorful pieces broke off and scattered around the drunken boy.

"Ow, asshole."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and play some fucking video games."

Stan sighed and got up, picking up the pieces of his shattered X-wing and trying to piece it back together without the instructions booklet, doing a mediocre job, "Dammit, Kenny, did you have to screw up my X-Wing? Everyone always screws up my Legos..."

"Yes, I did. Come on." Kenny said as he turned on the Xbox and began a game of Modern Warfare 3, "Get your drunken ass over here so we can play." Stan hobbled over, "You know how to play, right?"

"Of course I do." Stan got up as the game began, "So, uh, where was I? Oh right, what about that bitch, Alicia?"

"Stephanie."

"Vanessa."

"Stephanie."

"Charlie."

"Stephanie, Stan, her name is Stephanie." Kenny shook his head, "Anyway, yes I had a very nice talk with your cousin, she opened up to me after a while." Kenny fell silent. Stan waited for an answer, but none was coming so easily.

"So, what the hell happened? Did she say anything?" Kenny set up a two player, browsing through the various user profiles on Stan's Xbox, his eyes flicking to his friend who could barely hold his head up.

"I can use your gamer tag right, Stan? Since I get to be you now and all."

"Tell me about Sarah, Kenny!" Kenny laughed as he carefully slid Stan's Xbox controller out of his hands and started making up a new gamer profile for Stan, naming it 'PussyMarshMallow11'

"You'll feel like even more of an asshole when you find out why she hates you. Her name is Stephanie, you should remember it since its awfully similar to your name, the 'ST' sound and all."

"Stanley, Stephanie. Yeah makes sense, my sister is named Shelly. My family likes "S" names."

"Yeah, my family did that too, with K names. Your cousin doesn't like you because she's jealous of you." Kenny turned from adding a pink tutu to Stan's new avatar to see Stan had fallen back onto the carpet, his eyes shut. "Goddamn, you're a mess, pay attention! I'm trying to tell you something important! You hate your family and your life so much, meanwhile your Aunt and Uncle modelled their daughter's life to be as close to yours as they can possibly make it."

Stan's eyes flew open. "Huh, what do you mean? Why would anyone possibly want to live my life? Fighting celebrities, monsters and supernatural forces? Its hell, dude, you know as well as I do. Not to mention my dad's an idiot, my friends fight all the time... I mean come on... who would want to live like me?"

"She doesn't want to live like you. That's the problem. Her parents want you to be just like you. Their whole house is purple just like yours, and your aunt used to work as a receptionist just like your mom when she was in college, and they used to dress her up like a little boy when she was a baby. It's so fucked up."

Stan unsteadily pushed himself up and picked up his abandoned X Wing, trying to fit the pieces back together from memory. "They gave me a fucking skirt, trying to do that reverse gender bullshit on both of us. Goddammit."

"It's not just that. Stephanie seems to think her parents want you as their son. They really wanted a boy but had her instead, so they gave her a name similar to yours. All Stephanie hears is why can't she be more like her cousin and she tries to escape it by burying her nose in different fantasy books but of course it's not good enough for her parents."

"My dad is stupid, we at least have that in common, but I see what you mean."

"But I think the biggest gripe I got out of her was her parents came to celebrate your birthday a month late, tomorrow is her birthday and so far she's heard nothing about it from them. She's afraid they forgot. It wouldn't be the first time according to her."

Stan finally stopped fiddling with his Legos and looked up at Kenny in shock. "They can't do that! That's really shitty- they forgot about their own kid to favor me. We have to make it right, for her sake and mine."

"Well, what exactly are we supposed to do? Your aunt and uncle seem to love you no matter what you do. They try to justify every little thing. They'd probably hide the bodies in her basement if you were a serial killer." Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Well, we have to do something. The poor girl, what if we try talking to her again? I know more about her, maybe I can connect with her better now?"

"I doubt it. I'm telling you, dude, she hates you like Kyle hates Cartman. Talking to her won't do any good." Kenny insisted. Stan could be so thick sometimes, always talk, talk, talk. He longed to tell him talking didn't solve all the world's problems.

"We have to try, dude! What other options are there?" Kenny opened his mouth but Stan ignored him, "Come on, where is she right now? Where did you talk to her?"

"Oh, she's downstairs in the living room, watching television. Your dad's in his study, your mom and aunt are in the kitchen, I dunno where your Uncle Dean is and Uncle Jimbo and Ned are talking to Shelly about something out back. They seem to really like her now." Stan unsteadily got up and stumbled out of the room and began running down the stairs, "Hey, wait up, asshole!" Kenny chased after him.

"Stanley, I could use a hand in the kitchen." Sharon's voice came out as Stan passed the kitchen. He opened his mouth to reply but Kenny shook his head, leaving Stan to his mission as he went to join Stan's mother. Normally he'd protest but he was more concerned about his cousin, and his aunt was there so Kenny couldn't molest his mom, right? Stan entered the living room.

Stephanie was lying on the couch, her legs hanging over the arm rest and her head on a cushion, her copy of Lord of the Rings held up over her face. Stan hopped up onto the couch next to her. "Hey." She ignored him. "Hey!" No response. "Pay attention to me!"

"I think my mom would rather talk to you, I'm busy, Stanley." Oh she was going to play rough was she? Stan grabbed her book and threw it on the other side of the couch.

"Now you have to talk to me."

Stephanie finally looked at her cousin as she sat up."Ugh, you're like a mini version of Uncle Randy. What do you want?" She leaned forward getting a better look at him. "You're drunk aren't you? I'm telling."

Maybe honesty would work on her. Stan was sick of tip toeing around it; he leaned in to whisper to her. "Of course I'm drunk, how do you think I've been dealing with my family lately? I'm trying to help you."

"I seriously doubt you getting drunk would help me out. You look even more like your father when you can't see straight."

"Listen; think of me trying to help you as a gift. I thought people were supposed to get gifts on their birthdays."

"You knew! I thought I told Kenny that in confidence. I knew I shouldn't trust any friend of yours."

"Why didn't you want people to know tomorrow was your birthday?"

Stan watched as her frown softened. "It's not that I didn't want people not to know. I just wanted them to remember on their own. They certainly made a big deal over your birthday and it was over a month ago!"

"Believe me, dude; turning ten has not been pleasant. Why did you think I started drinking in the first place? I know how it is to be ignored and friendless and I'm trying to help you out so you can be more accepted in this family."

"I don't want to be accepted in this family since its obvious everyone is fucked up beyond reason. I'm going to continue to ignore you and everyone else here until this whole stupid holiday is over. Now give me my book back!"

"Stanley, are you and your cousin playing nicely?" came Uncle Dean's voice as he came up from the basement, closing the door behind him, "Hey, you know, I was thinking you kids and I could maybe play some football out back! Maybe your brother Kenny can join in, too?" Dean definitely didn't come over often enough.

"Sure, Uncle Dean, sounds good." Stan said, coming up with a simple plan. No, not the band, an idea: throw the game so Stephanie would succeed and look better than him. It could hypothetically impress his uncle, "Stephanie gets to play, too, right?"

"Well, uh, sure, if she wants to. She's never been into football." Stephanie rolled her eyes but didn't argue with either male family member, "I'll get outside, you go get your brother and meet me in the front yard and we'll toss around the pigskin, huh?" Dean told them before reaching the front door and going out.

"Charming, a football game." Stephanie said, "Another stupid obsession of the adult figures in my life. How pathetic. How about the family's star quarterback going out to play what he was bred for, huh?" she quipped.

"God, can you stop being such a Negative Nancy Debbie Downer? It's a game of football." Stan told her, the alcohol raising his annoyance a bit: he was desperate to get her to play with him. "Let's just get outside. HEY, KENNY! KENNY, COME ON!" It took a moment but Kenny finally showed up from the kitchen door. "Dude, the three of us are playing football with Uncle Dean."

"Why the hell did you sign me up? You know I suck at football! Besides, the soup is getting it all steamy, I think I could totally get away with-"

"Shut up, Kenny, we're going outside and you're coming with."

Stephanie remained firmly seated on the couch, crossing her arms. "Who the hell do you think you are, Stanley? You think Kenny and I will just go along just to show off your football skills? You're awfully bossy."

Stan suddenly had flashbacks to seeing this kind of behavior going on between Cartman and Kyle. Not that he and Kyle were all that different but Stan would try one of his old tricks on her. "I think you'd enjoy trying to play football with us. Maybe I'll fuck up big time and end up pissing everyone off and you wouldn't want to miss that."

"No."

Stephanie went to reach for her novel but Stan grabbed it and held it out of reach. "Play with us, or I'll rip out the last page...and eat it!"

"Oh my God, you are such a piece of shit, Stanley Marsh. That's a library book! My parents don't keep anything in their house besides non-fiction!"

"Smooth, Stan." Kenny rolled his eyes as he longingly peeked back into the kitchen just as Sharon was carefully taking the soup off the stove with some pot holders. He didn't need this.

"I'll do it, Stephanie." Stan held the book over his head threateningly as she jumped off the couch to try to reach it.

"Fine, if I play will you leave me alone the rest of my stay here?"

"How about the rest of the day? I want to make sure you have a really happy birthday tomorrow." He smiled as he handed her back her book as he walked through to the kitchen.

"Oh, I can't wait to see how you spectacularly fuck that up as well."

Kenny leaned over to whisper to Stephanie. "Don't worry; I'll make sure everything goes okay. He's so drunk he'll be more funny than actually good at football anyway."

"For my sake, I hope you're right; he's already made enough of an ass of himself."

"Come on, you guys, let's go to the back yard!" Stan called from the dining room.

"He's awfully bossy isn't he?"

"That's our little Stanny. Just say the name Wendy Testaburger enough times and he'll get so depressed he'll back down."

Stephanie shrugged and followed her cousin out the back door. Kenny held back as he watched Sharon bent over the oven, checking the turkey as Aunt Joanne chopped vegetables.

"My, Joanne, the oven's made the kitchen so hot I may have to go change into one of my workout tops."

Oh Godammit! Kenny tried to hold back at the sliding glass door but Stan was glaring at him from the backyard as he was trying to tie Sparky to his dog house.

After that morning's embarrassment, Uncle Dean seemed desperate to prove his masculinity to anyone he could. So far it was a group of fourth graders, seeing as Randy, Jimbo and Ned still weren't talking to him. He stood in the middle of the yard, grinning. "So, how will this work? Stan and me against Scarlett and Kenny?"

"No. I think Kenny should be your teammate. I wanna play with STEPHANIE."

Stephanie narrowed her eyes but said nothing as she went to stand next to Stan.

"Right, silly me, we can't have the two best players on the same team, that wouldn't be fair. Hey, sweetie, ever learn anything about football from The Lord of the Rings? Didn't think so. We'll need to teach her."

Stan smiled again, attempting to make peace again. "The Lord of the Rings is badass. I like it too!"

"I bet you only saw the stupid movie."

"Well yeah."

"Pathetic, any book you would get your hands on you'd try to eat, right?"

Stan looked away as Stephanie went to stand next to Kenny.

"Are we playing the stupid, overcomplicated version of football or the easy, fun version?" Kenny asked. All he really wanted to do was play a game, he didn't want any of the extra bullshit, but Stan's uncle seemed like the type to amp up every rule he could. He was the obsessive type, he could tell already.

"How about we let Stan pick?" Dean smiled, looking at his nephew with a grin. Stan rubbed his face as he thought, wondering how to play it,

"Oh, the easier version of course." He doubted Kenny or Stephanie knew the full game, and Stan only knew the rules as far as he could let himself care, and on a day-to-day basis, he simply did not. "Just two ends of the field there and there..." he specified different sides of the lawn, "The left one'll be you and Kenny, the right'll be me and Stephanie." Stan explained, "We'll toss the ball up, hit the end of the field, it's a touchdown. We don't have flags but... I think touch might be a little dangerous..." Stan didn't want to give his uncle any excuses to be grabbing anyone, "How about just a tag?"

"I think that works." Dean nodded, "Everybody ready?" No objections, "One, two, three... hike!" he tossed the ball out towards Kenny. Stephanie half-heartedly chased after it, clearly disinterested. Kenny grabbed the ball and quickly ran off with it towards Stan's side. Stan ran in hopes of tagging him - shit though, then he'd be overshadowing Stephanie, right? No, wait. He tagged Kenny and took the ball from him successfully,

"Steph!" He tossed the ball in her direction, hoping she could catch it and go for their side.

Stephanie shut her eyes as she held out her hands, her cousin's throw caused the football to go straight into her hands and smack her right on the fingers as it bounced off and went flying. "Ow! Goddammit!"

"Time out!" Kenny called as he rushed up to her as Stephanie stuck her fingers in her mouth. "Are you okay? Let me see."

"You broke my nail, Stanley!" Stephanie cried out as Kenny took her hand to examine it, the nail on her middle finger had bent back and broke and was bleeding slightly.

"Oh come on Scarlett, a broken nail is not an injury. Walk it off sweetie."

Stan stood gawking at what he just did when he meant to make Stephanie look good. "I'm so sorry Stephanie! I didn't mean to do it, Uncle Dean, I swear!"

"Oh don't mind her, she's just over dramatic. But damn, boy, you have quite an arm on you. Your father did say you were your school's quarterback?"

Stan was still unsure if he should try to help or would he be told to fuck off as Kenny held Stephanie's hand. "Oh yeah, well basically no one really cared or wanted to do it, I just sorta volunteered for it."

"I must say, keep that speed up and you could earn yourself a football scholarship one day. Get out of this town and make something of yourself. I did my undergraduate studies on an athletic scholarship."

"Of course you did." Stan sighed, finally realizing he was starting to feel lees drunk and therefore bad. Fear seemed to be a better sobriety remedy than coffee.

Across the field Kenny had Stephanie's hand in his as he whispered to her. "Come on, be brave, don't let your dad see you cry."

"Please Kenny, I don't want to play anymore. I just did it to shut Stanley and my dad up."

"Shh, shh, it's okay, let Kenny fix all of this. Just play along."

Stephanie nodded as Kenny patted her on the shoulder. "She's fine, guys. Time in. I think it's my ball, right?"

"Right, Kenny. I'm open, unless Stan can block it, right, champ?" Uncle Dean broke away from Stan as he got into position. Stan half-heartedly stood in front of his uncle, hands up ready to catch the ball if Uncle Dean missed it. Kenny gave one last glance to Stephanie before narrowing his eyes, aiming and throwing the ball directly into Stan's face. It made contact with a loud smacking sound as Stan toppled backwards into the snow with a heavy thud. "Who's being over dramatic now, Stan?"

He looked over at Stephanie again, who was trying to hide the smile on her face behind her hand with the broken nail. "Thank you, Kenny, he really deserved that."

"No problem. Happy Birthday, Stephanie."

Uncle Dean was bent over his nephew across the yard. "Goddamn, Kenny, he's out cold. Scarlett, go get your mom and Aunt Sharon."

Stephanie gave Kenny a hug, and then landed a small kiss right between his eyes, seeing as the rest of his face was covered by his hoodie. She pulled away with a blush on her cheeks. "Okay, Daddy." She said sweetly.

Kenny watched her walk away, he was good. Well from his view he could see her ass was as flat as her chest but still, a kiss. He was damn good. He had to figure out a way to pull down his hood quickly in case of surprises like that. Two down, two to go. He watched as Sharon and Joanne rushed out and Joanne gave a dramatic, bloodcurdling scream. The two younger Marsh women had been a snap, now he had bigger conquests, mountains to climb, if you will.

As for Stan, he'd live. He was lucky like that.


	5. Chapter 5

Kenny McCormick was in one, of several places he'd always wanted to go: Sharon, er, Randy and Sharon Marsh's closet. And he had a camera. A dream come true - at any possible moment, the heavenly Mrs. Sharon Kimble-Marsh would enter the room, slowly and enticingly undress, almost certainly remove her shirt and hopefully her bra... or maybe she wasn't wearing one. Kenny wondered what choice her color of underwear was - they say you can tell a lot about a girl from that sort of thing. He'd read black meant they were seductive, and that white is usually more prudish, but that seemed too easy. He should've done more research!

Before he could continue fantasizing about her, he heard the bedroom door open and stiffened in the closet, camera still just outside the crack. He glimpsed a figure quickly walk past into the bathroom. Shit, she better not undress in there! She couldn't do this to him! Goddamnit... Kenny tried to look past, but the door opened and she walked out in her undergarments. Strangely, she'd definitely put on a lot of weight, and her tits looked a lot saggier than usual. He straightened and continued to hold the camera, hoping to get an eyeful of her luscious curves.

She stepped just out of view, but Kenny could definitely hear a dresser drawer open and shuffling around. Kenny tried to slide open the closet door a bit wider and crane his neck to see a hand take out a pair of black panties with white polka dots. Black and white? What the hell was that supposed to mean to him? Some kind of in between, middle ground thing? Did that run in the Marsh family or what?

Kenny admired her ass from behind, carefully considering his options. He was unsure if the old Polaroid camera Kenny had swiped while Stan had been conked out in his room had a flash or not. Maybe she'd turn around before she slipped the panties on and he'd get a full frontal Playboy view, or Penthouse if he was lucky. 70's Playboy, since Sharon was kind of older. But she might see him and he might get in trouble, kicked out of the house, no Thanksgiving dinner and Stan probably not speaking to him for a while, if not forever. Would Sharon Marsh's naked picture be worth all that?

Fuck yeah.

Kenny got down on his stomach at the bottom of the closet and placed the lens of the camera just peeking out. He could be discreet if she walked by towards her bed and Kenny pressed the button at just the right moment. His angle would probably cut her head off, but Kenny had seen more than enough of Stan's mom from the neck up. With a chest like that it was a shame she'd always worn such a high cut blouse.

Kenny waited several moments as she seemed to pace around near the mirror. If not for the sheer voyeuristic thrill he would be so bored. But he bade his time, and had no trouble keeping his mind occupied. And then, his moment came as she stepped near the bed and he clicked the button to snap the picture. Yes! At last!

He pocketed the camera and stepped back in case she noticed anything, but there was no detailed investigation. After several long moments, she began to redress. Disappointing, he'd barely glimpsed her form from the front for more than a couple seconds at a time. What a rip-off... At least he had his photograph now.

Upstairs, Stan was trying to fight a pretty big headache. He could remember being carried inside by Uncle Dean and put into his bed and his mother getting him a cold compress for his head. The football had smacked him right between the eyes and he could feel a rapidly growing painful bruise spreading between his eyes, his right eye almost completely swelled shut. No one was more used to receiving injuries than Stan Marsh was so it wasn't just that. What was causing the horrible throbbing headache was the annoying banshee-like screech coming from the hall as his mom and Aunt Joanne argued right outside his bedroom door.

"We should call an ambulance."

"He's fine, Joanne, really."

"You should at least take him to the emergency room, Sharon. It could be worse than it looks!"

"I think I'll be the judge of what's best for my own son."

Sharon had left Stan to hold the ice pack and to just keep his eyes shut and rest while she got him some aspirin. He trusted his mom to at least be on his side and semi-sane. Hospital trips sucked ass.

"At least watch him. If he throws up, that's a sure sign of a concussion! Sharon, you need to keep a better eye on poor Stanley. Next time could and will be a lot worse than a possible concussion." Joanne said.

Sharon breathed in, "Joanne, I know what's best for my baby. I don't tell you how to raise your daughter; don't tell me how to raise my son."

Joanne bit her lip and refocused herself to the guest room door, "You almost done in there?" She asked her husband. Dean finished dressing and came out, "Sharon says we don't need to bring poor Stanley to the hospital."

Sharon sighed - she was bad for not watching Randy, but Dean was still cool. Though he should have been watching the kids better. Sharon tried to not let her concern show; she didn't want to end up scaring her son.

"Well, I think..." Dean started, Sharon gave him a look, and he backed off, "My sister's right, keep him home. I got plenty of serious head injuries as a kid and I'm fine."He avoided eye contact with either his wife or sister and for a moment, just stood, looking uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and seeming to adjust something under his shirt.

"Joanne, I think I know how to take care of my own son." Sharon replied sternly as she walked back into Stan's room, her in-laws following, "My poor baby, it'll be fine." she insisted to him as her sister-in-law crossed her arms, "What? Do you have more criticism of my parenting skills to pass on, Joanne?"

"No, no, it's fine, Sharon, I was just disappointed in your lack of concern for your son's physical condition, but I suppose you take a more conservative route with your parenting." Joanne shook her head, "Are you absolutely sure you can't run him to Hell's Pass? He could be suffering from some terrible internal bleeding, you know. You need to learn to keep a better eye on your child."

"It's fine, Joanne, let it go." Sharon said, eyes narrowing as she vented her anger into applying the ice pack better.

Joanne looked at her nephew again and shaking her head, "He's just a poor boy..."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "He needs no sympathy." she replied, becoming slightly annoyed now with the way her family was treating her. Stan was her child, she could raise him however she pleased and damn what anyone else thought. She didn't like welcoming these people in only for them to criticize her as a mother.

"Easy come, easy go." Dean shrugged, "How's Stan?" he looked to his nephew, grinning with pride, frowning a bit once he saw Stan's injury.

"Hm, little high, little low." Joanne reported matter-of-factly.

"Any way the wind blows, I guess." Dean replied, shrugging, "I'm not sure what happened, his brother just kinda launched the bottle at him, but I don't think it's his fault, he just expected him to catch it. Poor Stanley must've been distracted. I bet Stephanie did it on purpose hoping it'd make it easier for her to win. We need to talk to that girl about honesty, Joanne; she clearly hasn't learned a thing..."

"It's not the kids' fault, Dean. Children are usually sweet and innocent as long as they're watched over by responsible adults, but for some reason, the kids weren't supervised properly... Sharon." Joanne crossed her arms.

"Yeah, sis, you need to-" Sharon crossed her arms and gave Dean a very familiar glare, and he stopped in his tracks, "Well, I, uh, maybe Sharon's right, honey..."

Stan kept his eyes shut as he listened to the whole argument; it took everything he could to not use the familiar gesture of pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a simple comfort gesture as a response to other people's stupidity, even Kyle and Cartman had picked it up as well. But the bridge of his nose was so sensitive from pain that he had to hold back. He was surprised how often his hand reached up to do it now that he was unable to for the time being. He'd have to come up with some other way to deal. He'd end this before it got any worse.

"I'm glad you're concerned for me Mom, Aunt Joanne. But can you please leave me alone? My head already hurts enough. Don't you have to finish cooking dinner anyway?"

Sharon rushed back into Stan's room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. "Don't worry about it, Stanley. I left your father in charge of finishing making dinner."

Awesome, so much for traditional, normal family meal; not that calm family meals ever really happened. Stan had gotten quite used to picking out whatever 'special' ingredients his dad liked to add.

"Well can you just leave me alone? I kinda of want to take a nap."

Sharon smiled down at her son. "'Sure sweetie."

"A nap!" Joanne shrieked as she also took a seat at the foot of Stan's bed. "Don't you know anything about basic first aid, Sharon? A person can't sleep for several hours after a possible concussion. You need to keep him up at least until his normal bed time!"

Ugh, if through some horrible misfortune of fate Stan had actually ended up being Dean and Joanne's son he would assume he'd be made of glass and scared of everything by the age of ten instead of just constantly having to fight cynicism. But if Dean had been his father he'd probably be better at football though, but also gay.

He'd had enough of this bullshit. "If I can't sleep but you won't leave me alone I'll just go downstairs and watch TV if that's okay with you, Aunt Joanne."

"I don't know Stanley; you never know the harmful effects television can have on you."

"I'm well aware of that, wars with Canada and all. I actually wanted to watch football." Stan sat up in his bed and tried not to make a face at the splitting headache he had, if he actually showed how he felt maybe his mom would agree with Aunt Joanne.

"...Stanley has a point." Sharon perked up at the mention of Canada, having been involved herself, "We need to give him a little freedom. As long as he keeps the volume down and doesn't watch any violent programming, I think he'll be fine."

"Sharon, your son has gone through a possible concussion and you're just going to let him watch television? You've raised such a charming boy but how you did it with these parenting methods, I'm really mystified."

Sharon glared, "How DARE you come into my house and tell ME how to raise MY children!" she said angrily, "I've had it up to here with you, Joanne Renee Kimble!"

"How dare you! I'm your sister-in-law, I've dedicated my life's work to founding innovative ways to bring up happy and healthy children and you shouldn't ignore professional advice."

"More like you come into my house and impose your ways when everything was fine before."

Normally this would be the point that would push Stan to the edge and make him point out how ridiculous both women were being, another natural reaction due to being around his own group of friends, but now wasn't the time to get himself grounded. He rolled out of bed, leaving his mother and aunt to argue in his room and stumbled out into the hall. Leave it for something stupid to distract his mother when she said she'd get him something for his headache. He'd just get it himself and not be any more of a bother to anyone. The bathroom door was shut. Stan gave an audible sigh as he pressed his back to the wall and sat down, burying his sore head in his hands as he waited.

Kenny, after a moment, began walking out of the bathroom, eyeing the back of the camera in his hands with a lustful hunger, smirking - he was definitely enjoying the picture. Kenny quickly pocketed it, looking down at Stan, "Hey, dude, how's your head? Total, tragic accident, I swear."

"Asshole." Stan glared as he looked up, "Stop trying to get into the pants of my whole family, dude. How would you like it if I was flirting with your mom and your sister? And hurt you to impress them?"

"Karen McCormick is off-limits." Kenny glared angrily, crossing his arms, "Look dude, I am not perving on your sister or your cousin, so calm your shit. The only one I really like is your mom, and her tits are like DD's, you can't blame me for that. It's like dangling candy in front of a baby."

"Shut up Kenny, ugh." Stan tried to nosebridgepinch again but a shock of pain made him lower his hand, "Not only do I have you whining to me the whole time about my mom's boobs but then I have to listen to my aunt bitching about my mom's personality. They just spent like the last half hour in my room hovering around me and arguing. Maybe if people didn't whine so much about my mom she could actually help out, God..." Stan sighed.

"Help out with what?" Kenny tried to turn away from Stan to hide the camera in his jacket pocket. For a moment, it crossed his mind it was impossible for Sharon to have been hovering around Stan and in her bedroom at the same time. He suppressed these thoughts for now.

"Never mind, move." Stan pushed his way into the bathroom, jumping up on the stool he used to be able to see into the mirror so he could brush his teeth and opened the medicine cabinet for some kind of pain killer. He rummaged through the contents of the cabinet, moving a large pink and white box to the side to grab a few medicine bottles and knocked it over, spilling tampons down the sink and onto the floor. Stan narrowed his eyes at the mess he just made and looked over at Kenny. "I'm not picking those up."

"Me neither, dude." Kenny stepped back and kicked a small pink wrapper with his toe.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Stan gritted his teeth as he grabbed two bottles and compared them, Baby Aspirin or prescription Vicodin. It was either too soft or way too much with the members of his family, wasn't it?

"Yeah, I do. Your family's insane. But at least they don't all drink in and out and beat the shit out of each other like mine does."

"No, that's just my dad with random strangers." Stan replied bitterly. "I have actual, real problems to deal with, okay?" He gestured with the bottles in his hands.

"Like should you take four children's Aspirin and not have it do shit or take one fucking Vicodin and be zonked out for the rest of the day?"

"No...Aunt Joanne won't let me sleep. Neither will my mom with all her yelling." Stan studied each bottle, squinting with his good eye.

"Do you even care what she thinks?"

"No."

"You'll have more fun with the Vicodin. Trust me, my parents love that shit."

"Trust you? Look at my fucking face! This is your fault, Kenny."

"Yes, yes it is, it is my fault. And you know what? Chances are you won't even remember any of it later. Look, dude, I was trying to help your cousin. She actually seems like she'd be kind of cool if her psycho parents paid some goddamn attention to her instead of being so in love with you." Kenny stopped, rubbing his forehead, "I'm sorry. That's not what this is about... look, dude, I'm sorry I hit you, okay? I know that probably sounds kind of faggy and shit, but I'm sorry. I got too caught up in Stephanie."

"Yeah, I know." Stan looked at his bruised face in the mirror once again, then he turned and faced Kenny. "You probably don't know how much this hurts but in the end I guess I do deserve it. I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, and getting jealous at how everyone seems to like you better. The fact is you're a guest and someone new so of course they'd treat you better. My family is used to me and I'm used to them so, even if you weren't here, nothing would have changed. Except for this." Stan pointed to his face again. "I bet Stephanie was all amused at that."

"Oh yeah, she laughed her ass off." Kenny said, "Poor girl, probably the first time she's laughed in weeks, really... sorry, not about her, I know... see, what we need to do is make her look like the better child than you. Make her parents appreciate her instead of you."

"It should be more about her than me. I'm not even sure if I can at least get along with her at this point but we have to do something. I'm stuck with this family forever but she's stuck with-" Stan opened the bathroom door to the sound of screaming going on between Aunt Joanne and Stan's mom.

"Sharon, you're so ignorant sometimes - you don't understand child psychology. The things you and Randy are teaching Stan are going to hurt him. You're not letting him grow out for himself-you're keeping him isolated from his peers, forcing him to be outcast. He's such a sweet boy, Sharon, you need to stop trying to teach him everything about masculinity and start teaching him to get in touch with the other sides of himself. I mean, God knows what a terrible example of a father he has..."

"Terrible example! Randy may be a selfish, ignorant, drunken, stupid bastard, but he's my husband, Joanne, and I'd advise you not talk about my husband like that in front of me when you don't even know what I'm capable of! I will raise my child however I please! You are a guest in my house; now stop strutting around like you own the place!"

Stan rolled his eyes as he slammed the bathroom door and looked at the bottles in his hands again. "So the prescription stuff will take the pain away and be a little bit fun?"

"Oh yeah, dude, my dad has tons of that stuff. He takes it with his scotch, though I think you've had enough alcohol for one weekend."

"Never. Judging from how my dad turned out this will just be the first of many drunken weekends for me." Stan popped the Vicodin bottle open and tapped one rather large white pill into his hand, he glanced up to see Kenny's hand was also outreached to him, he raised an eyebrow.

"If this is the beginning of many weekends where you get wasted, Stan, I want in."

Stan opened his mouth to say no, but looked at the prescription bottle in his hand again; the neatly printed label read Marsh, Marvin. If this really was going to be Stan's new future as he got older, it would be nice to have a friend along for the ride... "Okay I'll give you some, but you have to promise one thing."

"Sure, what is it, dude?"

"Please shut up about my mom's boobs for the rest of weekend. It's really grossing me out."

Kenny considered, his eagerly outstretched hand retracted slightly. "I can still look though, right?"

"Dude, sick. Come on Kenny, I thought you were clean. Leave it." Stan commanded.

"Come on, dude, don't let my cock be teased so much! You can't expect me to not even look when a hot chick like that is around!"

"I bet you wouldn't be saying that if I oogled your mom." Stan rolled his eyes.

"It would annoy me but I'd understand."

"I'm just going to have to keep a close eye on my mom for the rest of the weekend around you, shouldn't be too much of a problem since she won't stop hovering. She wouldn't leave my side after you hit me with the football."

"God, Stan, how do you do it?" Kenny asked, "Always surrounded by beautiful women, even when injured. I hope I get to be like that when I grow up." Stan rolled his eyes yet again, "Dude, come on, you're a pimp, just admit it."

"Oh, stop it, Kenny; we all know the girls always say Kyle's the cute one. Remember Bebe did that whole report on how Jews are awesome because the boys are cute?" Kenny opened his mouth, "If you say 'Stan, I didn't know you swung that way', I will punch you, Kenny." Kenny's mouth closed, "Is sex all that matters to you?" Kenny laughed, "Now what was funny about that?"

"Nothing, nothing, just, some guy said that- never mind that." Kenny chuckled again, "Just-"

"STAN, STAN, I NEED YOUR HELP, IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" came Randy's voice, very loud and very clear, "I'M NOT KIDDING, IT'S NOW OR NEVER!" Stan and Kenny exchanged worried looks and ran out of the bathroom, Stan pocketing the Vicodin as they ran to the kitchen in horror. Was Randy having a heart attack? Was he injured? Did Jimbo accidentally shoot - oh, never mind, he was standing there wearing a Chef's hat and apron, "Stan, Stan, do I put all the stuffing in the turkey, or keep some as a side dish?"

"Goddamnit, Dad, THAT'S your big fucking emergency!" Stan said in disbelief. He tried to nosebridgepinch, but pulled his hand back as he felt pain, "Ow! That fucking hurts!" Kenny held back a chuckle, "It's not funny, asshole!"

"Yes, it is an emergency, Stan, this has to be a perfect Thanksgiving dinner, the Broflovskis AND the Cartmans are coming over this year! It has to be the best! Now come on, I need your help. Stan, you need to check on the sweet potatoes, and uh, Kenny, you need to go find the pineapple in the fridge and start slicing it, okay? Be careful, we have sharp knives."

"Dad, come on, this is stupid." Stan crossed his arms.

"No, it's not, Stan, it's just cooking. See, I'm putting crème freiche on the turkey." Randy bent over and poured out a little crème freiche, "Awwh, fuck yeah..."

"Stan, how'd you fix it last time your dad was like this?" Kenny asked, worried out of his mind at this point. He had some weird fetishes, but fucking food was past his own line.

"Uhh... you don't want to know." Stan didn't want the full details himself. Randy ignored him and took out a bottle of beer and held it over the turkey, "I mean come on, Kenny, you're the one who knows all the sick sex stuff, what the hell's wrong with my dad?"

"He doesn't get enough pussy in his diet so needs to find substitutes."

Stan sighed and stepped forward "Dad, come on, you're not going to put beer on the turkey are you?"

"Why not? It'll taste better."

"Dad, it will, uh... it'll cancel out the crème freiche! Yeah, they'll be like, a flavor conflict or something!" Stan tried to argue, "You'll ruin the dinner and mom'll be pissed off again! You don't want that, right?"

"Stanley, you're too young to understand, adults like alcohol, it makes things seem really cool, no matter how shitty life is."

"Believe me, Dad, I totally understand- OW." Stan had to remember not to nosebridgepinch, "You just need to... Kenny! Kenny! Dude, what the fuck?" Kenny was at the table attempting to cut the pineapple, "You're supposed to be backing me up here, asshole!"

"I'm not Kyle, dude. Let your dad fuck with the food. Food is food, Stan, you shouldn't be so picky." Kenny scolded, cutting the pineapple apart, "If you lived my life you'd be dead by now." Kenny chuckled a bit at his own dark humor.

Stan shut his eyes and tried not to let it get his frustration get to him, he still had the pills in his pocket but taking them seemed to becoming less and less of a good idea, he'd just try and change the subject. "You know how I can get rid of my headache, dad?" Other than a week long vacation away from everyone.

"No, Stan. Now how about you stop whining and go check on those sweet potatoes, okay?" Randy grinned at his son.

"Dad, Mom already made the sweet potatoes." Stan said, biting his tongue.

"Well, she didn't do the best job, they weren't warm enough, so I put them in the oven. Kenny, how's the pineapple going?" Kenny gave a thumbs up, "Great, great. This is all going just awesome."

"Dad, leave the food alone." Stan commanded, crossing his arms.

"Stanley, there's nothing wrong with customizing our meal a little, Gawd! Besides, we're having over the Broflovskis and the Cartmans, we can't fuck this up."

"What about my family?" Kenny said.

"Your family wasn't invited, dude." Stan said, raising an eyebrow. Kenny looked at him, then down at the floor, sighing deep, "...oh no. That's not going to be a problem is it?"

"No, of course not." Kenny said, "...fine, yes. It's not my fault, okay? I just mentioned... and Karen thought... and... Goddamnit can't my family get a good meal for once, asshole? You know what we had for Thanksgiving dinner last year? Nothing, Stan. Because we don't have a fucking can opener."

Some battles were just not worth fighting. "Look I'm sorry, we must have forgotten. I'll ask my dad, I'm sure it won't be a problem. Right, Dad?"

Randy was busy poking his head in the fridge, examining the contents. He emerged with a bottle of Tabasco sauce in one hand and a package of hot dogs in the other. "What do you think, son? I thought the plain mashed potatoes your mother made could be improved. Spicy or savory or maybe sweet?"

"None of that, Dad! Can we just have normal Thanksgiving food? We are having even more company, apparently. Why are we inviting all my friends' families to eat Thanksgiving dinner here again?"

Randy got a very serious look on his face. "Nobody wants their Thanksgiving celebration to last past the New Year, Stanley." Kenny scratched the back of his neck.

"True, this weekend can go so many different directions, but I don't want anything else terrible to happen to me, my face already hurts enough."

"I'm sorry Stan, here you go." Randy tossed a bottle of regular aspirin at his son.

"Where were you hiding these?"

"I wanted to try and add them to the pie. Now it turns out Mrs. Cartman will be bringing the dessert now. Lucky us, huh Stan?"

Stan rolled his eyes as he poured a glass of water for himself at the sink. "It's nice to spend Thanksgiving with those we care about but why did you forget to invite Kenny's family?"

Kenny looked up from the chopping board. "They can come, right?"

"Oh that's fine, Kenny. Just be sure to tell them it's a pot luck so if they could bring something it would be great, if it's not too much trouble." Kenny cheered as Stan looked at him apprehensively,

"We'll think of something." Kenny whispered, waving his hand dismissively. "We'll find some creamed corn at the very least."

"Yeah, but dude, nobody likes creamed corn. Why do you think people always give your family that stuff at the canned food drive?"

"Out of the generosity and kindness of their hearts." Kenny replied sarcastically, "I figured that much out. When you're poor you grow up being able to put up with 'crappy' food, Stan."

"Whatever, just bring SOMETHING okay? God knows how my aunt and uncle will overreact if your family comes here and just mooches-" Kenny crossed his arms, "Okay dude, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you know how crazy they are."

"Whatever, I'll call my parents and talk to them about it... once we can get your dad out of the kitchen at least." Kenny replied, looking to Randy who was now mixing Tabasco sauce and sliced hot dogs into the mashed potatoes. Kenny liked hot dogs but that looked about as appetizing as a dead ferret. (Which, for the record, is not appetizing at all.)

"Look, Kenny, you call your parents, and I'll try to get my dad out of here before he ruins the whole dinner. If all else fails, we'll have to call Cartman's mom, she's a good cook." Stan suggested, turning towards his dad, "Hey, Dad."

Kenny took out his crappy phone and dialled his home phone, sighing. This probably wouldn't end well.

xXx

"You washed up, drunken hunk of shit!" Carol McCormick yelled as she tossed an empty beer bottle in the direction of her husband across the couch, who ducked underneath it, "How'd you lose yer fuckin' job this time? Were you fucking jackin' it in the parking lot again? Sleepin' on the job? Beat the shit out of your fuckin' boss?"

"Shut up, you dumb bitch! You don't know how fucking hard it is to support a goddamn family!" Stuart said, "I work for hours on end, come home expecting a nice dinner and a happy family, and you just start running your fucking mouth like the dumb bitch you are!"

"I'm a dumb bitch? I don't know how to support a family? We've been living off my income for weeks, Stuart! I pay the kids' allowances, I pay the bus fees, I pay the bills. All you do is sit on your ass and watch old '80's sitcoms and drink!"

"That is not true! That is a total fucking lie! Three's Company is not an '80's sitcom, you whore!" He ducked from another bottle, "The only reason you pay for everything is 'cause every time I get a job, you piss me off before work so I fuck up!"

Kevin and Karen sat on the couch in between them, "Mommy, Daddy..." Karen quietly tried to console. She never knew how to settle these things without Kenny around. "Can you stop fighting please?"

"You don't do it like that, Karen." replied Kevin, grabbing a beer bottle by its neck and smashing it into the couch, then raising it, resulting in the former bottom half of the bottle now being serrated and sharp. He grinned, "Hey, you pieces of shit!"

"Oh, now look, you got fuckin' Kevin doing it, too! You know he really is your son, isn't he? A stupid, jobless drunk who can't do shit around here! He opens a textbook and falls asleep!" Carol screeched.

"Shut up, bitch. Son, you put that beer bottle down right now or we are not going to have McDonald's for Thanksgiving, do you hear me!"

"B-but daddy, y'all always say thank God fer the dollar menu an'... oh I shouldn't hafta be fuckin' afraid o' you..." Kevin raised his arm, and then punched Stuart with his free hand.

"Now you've got it coming!" Stuart raised his arm back as his wife pulled it away, Kevin proceeding to punch his father again as Karen simply began crying on the couch. Suddenly, the phone began ranging.

"Oh shit, where the hell'd we put the phone?" Stuart asked. Karen got down off the couch, looked both ways and ran into Kenny's bedroom, pulling it out from under his pillow - the safest place in the house as far as she knew.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi Karen." Kenny replied simply. "I need to talk to Mommy and Daddy."

"Oh, okay." Karen nodded, "How's everything at Stan's house?"

"Oh, it's great actually; I haven't had this much to eat since..." There was a long pause, "Anyway, yeah things are going awesome, don't you worry a thing, Fairy Princess." he smiled, "Now can I talk to mommy and daddy?"

"'kay." Karen entered the front room, where Stuart, Kevin and Carol were on the couch nicely, drinking two beers, Kevin often grabbing at either of his parents' for a sip, an old black-and-white episode of 'I Love Lucy' on. "Mom, Dad, Kenny wants to talk to you!"

"Gimme that." Stuart took the phone from her, "Kenny, where the hell have you been, kid?"

"Oh, just hanging around." Kenny chuckled, "I got some good news. We don't have to eat McDonald's for Thanksgiving! We're going to get some real fucking food!"

The McCormicks looked at each other, all hearing it - because they're poor and couldn't afford a phone with private conversations, it was always set to speaker - "What? Kenny, son, what did you do? It was perfectly legal, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." Kenny said, "We're going to my buddy, Stan's house for Thanksgiving tonight! They're awesome cooks, don't worry. It'll be the best thing any of us have ever eaten, even Mom!" Stuart got up with a fist in the air to cheer, hugging his wife as Kevin hugged Karen. The two pairs of family members separated,

"No catch, really?"

"Small catch. We need to bring something with us. Just make something crappy, I doubt they'll care. Stan's dad is cooking all sorts of insane shit and Cartman's mom always brings a bunch of goodies anyway."

"We need to bring something? Aw, fuck!" Stuart said, "Kenny, we've barely got any money or food right now, all we've got is beer!"

"Then bring beer. Just show up at six, okay? Later!" Kenny hung up.

"Fuck... well then, let's get that thirty-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon ready that the damn kid won't let us drink." Stuart said, going towards the fridge.


	6. Chapter 6

Stan sat at the dining room table, his hands gripped around his favorite glass, the one with the Denver Broncos logo on it. He had filled it to the top with water not even five minutes ago but the glass was half empty now, matching Stan's already pessimistic attitude. He had placed one regular aspirin on his tongue but when he'd try to swallow it with the water he'd end up gagging and spitting it out. By the third try Randy had told him to get out of the kitchen because he was grossing him out and that he'd "ruin" the food. Like Stan's dad wasn't ruining his mom's cooking enough already on his own. Stan attempted to keep an eye out from his position sitting at the dining room table, next to the Broncos glass in front of him was a pile of soggy, half chewed white pills, the bitter medicated taste would not leave Stan's mouth. He took bigger and bigger gulps of water to try and wash it out, wishing he had thought to mix some Kool-Aid into it before his dad had kicked him out of the kitchen. Kenny had disappeared to God knows where. Probably to wherever his mother had gone.

Randy was working not far from Stan when his phone rang. He stopped working with the food to answer, "Yellow? Oh, hi, Shar. Uh-huh. Yeah. Right. Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell did I do? Well just because your brother's wife is a bitch doesn't involve me- hey, having the whole family over was your idea! Oh, oh, so I'm a bad person for inviting my son's friends over? Oh, well excuse me for thinking of Gerald like family! Look, I owed the Cartmans a fav- look; will you get off my back? I can't come out to the garage; I'm in the ki- hold on." Randy put the phone down,"Stan, could you go out to the garage and help your mother bring in the big table? The one Daddy usually saves for poker night?"

So his mom was away from Kenny's wandering eye. Good. Stan got up but saw his dad pull a large tub of chocolate frosting out of the pantry. "Sure dad, just don't do anything else to the food while I'm gone, please. I think the Broncos game is starting now; you don't want to miss the opening, do you? The cheerleaders or the praying?"

"You're right, son; he really is the pride of the Broncos and Colorado."

Stan forced a smile to his dad as Randy quickly got up and left the room, can of frosting still in his hand, much to Stan's annoyance. Oh well, that solved that problem, onto the next one. He made his way to the garage to meet with his Mom. Sharon was busy trying to pull the large, heavy poker table out of the corner of the garage, grunting and mumbling under her breath as she struggled to make the table budge as strands of her usually neat hair were starting to come askew... Stan was so glad Kenny was also distracted right now; he didn't need any more comments. She stopped when he entered.

"Need my help, Mom?"

"Oh sweetie are you sure? Your face still looks terrible."

"It's not that bad, Mom. It was an accident. Shelly's gotten me way worse than this and she means to do it. You've never been like this when that happens and you shouldn't let Aunt Joanne mess with your head to cause you to treat me like a helpless little kid."

Sharon stopped struggling with the table and looked at her son, brushing the strands of hair from her tired eyes. "But sweetie you're my youngest child, my little boy and I just hate seeing you get hurt."

"But, Mom, I'm not helpless either, and I certainly can do things on my own, watch." Stan crawled under the table into the area it was stuck and started to push it out of the corner it was wedged in. "See I can help you, Mom because I am the smallest. I know you love me, Mom. You love all our family and even if we don't always appreciate you, we love you too. But you shouldn't let unconditional family love cause you to be a pushover. You have to take back control of the house."

"You might be right, Stanley..." Sharon sighed, "But what the hell am I supposed to do? Kick my brother and his wife out of the house? They mean well, they really do. I just wish they'd learn not to baby MY son and have a kid of their own." she rolled her eyes. "Look Stanley, I can handle this myself. You're only a child, don't put yourself in the middle." she insisted suddenly.

"I'm already in the middle." Stan replied, "Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne are trying to baby me, and are fighting with you about me. I can't stay out of it if it's all about me." Stan nosebridgepinched, "Ow!" he retracted his hand, "Look, Mom, if you just keep sitting and taking it, you're not going to get anywhere. You don't have to kick them out of the house but be more assertive."

Sharon sighed, "Stanley, I still don't know... they really do mean well, they're not trying to cause trouble, and besides it is Thanksgiving. It's about family. Maybe we should give them another chance..."

Stan almost nosebridgepinched, "Let me put it this way, Mom. Let's look at some animals." he explained, "What happens when the alpha animal in group is challenged? It fights back. Wolves, Chimpanzees, Lions, they all do it. When the social ladder is challenged, you fight the challenger. You need to fight to assert your dominance as the alpha leader." Sharon still looked unsure, "When everything changes, you need to press that reset and make things go back to normal, Mom."

Sharon's clenched fist rammed into the palm of her other hand, "You're right, Stanley. I can't let this go on anymore. This is MY house, not Dean's, not Joanne's, not Jimbo's or Ned's or Randy's..."

"...well, Mom it is kinda Dad's house, too..."

"I need to go inside and assert myself as the alpha female, whether my brother likes it or not!" she punched into her palm again and went to the garage door, her voice going back to its usual sweetness, "Stanley, do me a favor and finish taking care of the table for me? Thank you." And then she walked out.

Stan gave his first genuine smile since he had woken up as he easily pushed the poker table towards the kitchen door. He straightened himself up; happy to once again prove to his own sister wrong that watching Animal Planet for hours on end was not a waste of time. He felt more confident as he carefully turned the table on its side to slide it carefully into the kitchen and pushing some more, the sides of the table making a horrible screeching sound against the linoleum. Stan stopped again to try to put the table right side up when he was met with another loud sound, this time shattering Stan's eardrums with more of a wail. His mom was probably finally putting crazy Aunt Joanne in her place. He didn't want to miss that. He left the table on its side and headed up the stairs to where his father was still on the couch licking chocolate frosting off his fingers.

He expected the confrontation to be coming from where he last saw Aunt Joanne but stopped when he heard crying coming from the guest room.

"Daddy, please, I don't want to stay after today. Tomorrow is important to me and I wanted to spend it doing some family time."

Stan stopped and once again put his ear to the door to hear his Uncle chuckle. "Scarlett, please, you are having family time. The best thing we could do for you is to give you a peer you can socialize with and learn positive behaviors from."

"The best thing? I didn't want to say it out loud but you did forget my birthday, again! Why can't you call me by my given name? I'm sorry I can't live up to other family members you'd rather spend your time with but why can't you just love and accept me for who I am?" Stan could hear her sobbing grow more frantic; he put his hand on the door knob to see if he could help but the next words made him stop.

"You have to stop with this unnecessary emotion, Scarlett. Did Stan cry when a football hit him in the face? No! He took it like a man, even shrugged off medical care. Boys have remarkable resilience to pain and injury and you cry over nothing, sweetie."

"But Daddy, I'm not a boy! I'm a girl who gets sad, who expresses feelings and just wants reassuring that her family cares about her! I don't want to have to turn into the son you never had in the ways you want me to!"

"Stephanie Kimble, I am your father and you will do as I tell you. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want, okay?" he said, "You think my parents just showered me with everything I wanted and liked?"

"No! I'm sick of you treating me like I mean nothing to you for that stupid boring jock!" Stephanie said, "Maybe I'd be more like him if I was raised by Uncle Randy and Aunt Sharon instead of you and Mom! All you've done is try to mould me into someone I'm not!"

The door flung open and Stan quickly put up a hand to keep from getting smacked once again in the face as Stephanie rushed past him in the hall. "Stephanie, please let me and Kenny try to help you!" He reached out to grab the sleeve of her jacket but she shook him off and shoved him against the door.

"Fuck you. If you're going to try and sweet-talk me and tell me nothing is wrong I don't want to hear it again. Stay out of things that are none of your business!" Stan held up his hands in defeat as Stephanie continued down the hall, slamming the door to Shelly's room. Stan was left with his gawking Uncle, urge to nosebridgepinch rising.

Uncle Dean walked up to his nephew and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't mind her, son. She's just being irrational."

Stan shook his Uncle off, noting the deep violet pencil skirt he had on. "Don't call me that."

"Call you what?"

"Son. I thought my dad was bad but you're so full of shit you can't see you're fucking up your own kid for some psychological experiment. I admire Stephanie for at least being able to seem okay when you're doing an even shittier job than what I thought my dad was doing. You must have gone to college to be a stupid as you are. You don't even think of people's feelings. Get the hell away from me."

Stan glared at his uncle and continued down the hall to his room.

"Now that is what I'm talking about, Stan."

"What?"

"That is the right way to respond to something negative."

Stan simply rolled his eyes; already well aware everyone was out of their minds and walked into his room. He slammed the door to be met with his aunt who was shuffling around though the giant box in the corner marked "Stan's Toys" grumbling and shaking her head.

He came up behind her. "What are you doing, Aunt Joanne?"

"I'm just surprised at the choices you made in toys, Stanley." Spread out before her was army men, action figures, many sports balls of all shapes and sizes, a spaceship, some plastic animal toys, and half of an old train set.

Stan grabbed the caboose of the train set protectively. "Why? Because they're boys' toys?"

"They're just so violent and unsafe, the army men and action figures have small parts you can choke on, those animals aren't scientifically accurate at all, that train set has electrical parts and you getting hurt earlier is proof enough that football is a very dangerous activity I can't believe your parents let you have this stuff."

Stan started scooping up all the toys he could to get them away from her. "I love these toys. What do you think I should be playing with then?"

"I've just expected more plush animals, maybe some educational Discovery Channel toys, some Ponies, a Clyde Frog doll or two... "Aunt Joanne said, "A lot of kids your age like to play with plush toys, some people like to collect them, it builds self confidence."

"Oh I have those." Stan picked up a green squishy football and held it in front of her face, squeezing it so it squeaked, "See? It's a plush toy, Aunt Joanne."

"Stanley, no need to get so defensive. I'm only asking questions. Has your asthma acted up lately?" Joanne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Asthma?"

Joanne held up an inhaler that had also been in the toy box. "You know it's a serious medical condition, right Stanley?"

"Oh that, I snagged that from the suitcase of my friend's cousin since he was getting pissed off we kept calling him a faker and he wouldn't let us take a hit off it. We were trying to ship him off to Connecticut."

"Stanley! You just don't know what goes into treating a condition as serious as asthma. There are inhalers, nebulizers, and signs to watch for! You could have killed your little friend!" Aunt Joanne held the stolen asthma inhaler to her chest as a tear fell from her cheek.

Now Stan started to feel bad. "Look, we were just screwing around, all my friends were doing it. That's what we do, that's what all kids do."

"Don't you tell me how kids should act; I've spent my life studying how kids behave and act and how to fix behavior problems. I don't know what's happened to you or my daughter. You were both so innocent, sweet and cute, sure you'd get into minor trouble that was easily forgiven but now you talk back and hurt others. I could blame your parenting since you didn't act this way the last time I saw you, when you were six."

"But I'm not a little kid anymore and I never will be." Stan put a consoling hand on his aunt's shoulder which made her bury her head in her hands and cry harder. Some people needed to be yelled at when they were being ridiculous but at times people needed kindness, no matter how blind. "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?"

"No, Stanley." Joanne said, "I-I just wish you kids could understand... you can't just run around trying to hurt people. I mean, okay, a little cute kid trouble is okay but you used to be so different and..." she continued crying.

"Look Aunt Joanne, I know things get tough sometimes but you have to understand... things change... and you know, we may not like it but, we have to accept it, because change opens up whole new worlds for all of us, so our lives don't get boring and we don't end up doing the same shit week after week. I'm growing up, I'm changing, and maybe you need to change, too." Stan suggested.

"Children are our future. They're all so beautiful, innocent and sweet. I'm well aware of changes in life Stanley, that you're not perfect but you're an adorable little boy too young to understand that adults always want to give you the world and always know what's best for you."

"Yeah, adults know what's best for me. Uncle Jimbo made us drink beer in the woods, my teacher calls me a pansy, my counsellor thinks I have a social development disorder, the police never believe a word we say, the newsman can't get our ages right, the Mayor used us for news stories, my grandpa tries to make me kill him and my dad, well come on, I love my dad, but when has he ever been even slightly responsible? Adults are stupid, Aunt Joanne, okay? The problem is they always think they know what's best, and then they get pissed off when you disobey them, even when they know they're wrong. That's why adults are stupid."

"That is my exact point, Stanley. All those figures that showed bad behavior in front of you have all been male. This is the exact reason why I encourage you to explore your feminine side. If you looked to female figures for positive reinforcement you'll learn to trust more and go back to that sweet little boy we all know you really are. . At your age the person most important to you should be your mother and only her."

"Oh, that's funny. You know who else really loved his mother? Norman Bates from Psycho. Do you know who he is?" Stan asked, crossing his arms, "Nothing's wrong with looking up to a male figure, I mean look at Theodore Roosevelt, he was President and he started national parks and conservation efforts to protect animals and he didn't make a single decision without thinking about what his dad would do, just like I always wonder what Brian Boitano would do. Plus he was totally badass." Stan went on, "I mean, you want me to be like a U. S. President, or a murderer?"

"Honey, that's going between two extremes. You've got to think realistically. You're just so sweet you get confused easily, oblivious while things, important things slip by you. You should only listen to your mother; no relationship is more special than the one shared between a boy and his mother. You're lucky your mother has never done anything wrong, despite your father's unruly behavior."

"For fuck's sake, Aunt Joanne, my mom tried to dig and hide a bunch of dead bodies in the backyard and tied up a police officer in the basement when she thought I was a murderer!" Stan said, losing his patience now, "What a great female role model - at least she's not beating the shit out of me like my sister though, right? Or starting wars with Canada? Or being a crack whore? Oh wow, look, a bunch of bad deeds WOMEN do in this town!"

"You...don't understand a mother's love. Your mother would never do anything irrational and if she did it was for your sake. You seem to admire Norman Bates so much; you shouldn't even be allowed to watch stuff like that. I won't believe it."

"I hate how people seem to assume I'm oblivious when they use that to make their own shitty behavior legitimate. All I've ever told people is don't say or do something without real proof. I know why my mother did all that, but the point was she was a fool and I was innocent. If you want your own proof take a shovel from the garage and go digging around the tree in the back yard, you should find about half a human skeleton under there."

Joanne's eyes searched the room. Instead of replying she simply handed Stan the asthma inhaler and left the room without another word. Stan slammed his bedroom door after her and pressed his back to it. It hurt but calling people out was always the best option. He went to his window to see if Aunt Joanne would go digging around back there or if Sparky had eaten all the bones by now. He looked at the inhaler in his hand and uncapped it, taking a hit of it and almost gagging at the harsh medicated taste.

He couldn't remember what possessed him to steal it other than Cartman had called him a pussy until he did it. Suddenly he got an idea on how to get Aunt Joanne off his back; he threw the inhaler back into the toy box and grabbed his iPhone to send Cartman a text message:

To: Fatass (BigBoned)

From: Stan (loves2spooge)

Dude, you and your mom are still coming for Thanksgiving dinner, right? I need you to do me a big favor - sit by my Aunt Joanne, the thin woman with the long brown hair, and just be yourself. Rip on Jews or whatever, I don't care. I'll totally owe you for this.


	7. Chapter 7

Kyle continued to brush himself off as he got out of the car, "Wow, Marvin, I had no idea you were the leader of all Marklar. Sucks those stupid Pilgrims and Indians keep screwing with your planet though. But at least that wormhole means we can see you more often." Kyle noted, "Thanks for taking me riding through the galaxy though, by the way, even if we did get into a military dogfight... really need to find a way to change the radio station on there." Marvin shrugged.

"Zepronanner!" Ike caught up to his brother and his friend as their parents neared the Marsh family front door,

"Gerald, be very careful with that stuffing now, we don't want to lose it, you know how the stuffing prices have gone up this year." Sheila said sternly.

"Oh, relax, Sheila, the price didn't go up that much. It'll be fine." Gerald rolled his eyes, "It's just stuffing, anyhow. Randy made some didn't he?"

"Yes, but this is my mother's traditional family recipe, since the right to have stuffing was almost taken from us it would be a shame to waste all the effort into making it. Besides you remember the last time Randy and Sharon hosted a dinner party." Sheila gave her husband a knowing look, glancing down at the children following them, hoping they didn't pick up anything in her tone.

"Of course, dear." Gerald said automatically. "You just didn't have to make so much. Here Kyle, help your brother take this in."

Kyle said nothing as a bowl was placed in his hands, funny how his parents could be wrapped up in their own world that they would never believe the adventure he just had. Stan had been flaky all day, only answering his texts when the subject turned to his complaining about... something. Kenny and his football team not winning or something. Oh well, he'd be happy to hear Kyle's entire adventure in person.

"I swear to Abraham, Gerald, don't embarrass me today."

"Embarrass you, Sheila? What could I possibly do on Thanksgiving?"

"Don't the Marshes have a cat?" Sheila asked.

"Oh, so you're going to bring that up." Gerald rolled his eyes with frustration.

Kyle sighed, if he made his presence known his parents would stop, some new technique on not showing their marriage problems in front of three kids. "Dog, Ma, the marshes have a dog."

"Oh that's fine then, Bubbe. You're such a good boy; want to ring the door bell?"

"Fine." Kyle rolled his eyes like his father and reached up to ring the bell, annoyed his mother would switch her moods so easily between yelling at his dad to babying him. He was almost ten for fuck's sake.

The door opened and the Broflovski family was met with a very pissed off looking Stan, large bruise spread across his nose and eyes. "Happy Thanksgiving." Stan grumbled. The rest of the Broflovski family returned the greeting and shuffled past but Kyle held back. Stan looked like he needed him. Talking about his and Marvin's space adventure could wait.

"Damn, dude, Shelly got you again?"

"No, Kenny."

"What the hell? Kenny?" Kyle said, confused, "Dude, why's Kenny trying to beat you up? There's no way that was just an accident."

"Oh, he's after every female member of my family, and decided to try to impress my cousin who hates me by trying to kill me during a game of football." Stan replied bluntly, "What have you been up to?"

"We'll talk about that later. Dude, Kenny attacked you for your cousin? What, does she have big, um, a good figure or something? Why's Kenny after her so much?"

"Well, I was hoping we could cheer her up because her parents are psychos and using me like some kind of fucked-up chew toy." Stan shook his head, "They make me parents, Shelly, Grandpa, Jimbo and Ned look pretty cool in comparison, I swear to God.." he tried to nosebridgepinch, "Goddamnit, ow!"

"Sorry, dude, not sure if it'll cheer you up but have I got a story for you. Remember after we said goodbye and I took Marvin home? Turns out-" The doorbell interrupted Kyle.

"Hold on dude." Stan answered the door again to Liane and Eric Cartman. "Hi, Happy Thanksgiving." He said quickly.

Cartman took one look at Stan and busted out laughing.

"Oh my God, Stan, you look like so fucking stupid... Mom, are you seeing this? Mom? MOM!" Cartman tugged his mother down to look at Stan, "Doesn't Stan look stupid?" Cartman laughed quite loudly, not holding back. Liane laughed a few times as well, although half-heartedly.

"Hey Cartman, leave Stan alone, it's not his fault Kenny's being an asshole!"

"Pfft, Kenny did that? Wow Stan, you take karate lessons and the poorest kid in school can beat you up?" Cartman continued to laugh, "Maybe you should get a karate teacher who actually teaches fighting and not just wisdom-y bullshit!"

"We have the same karate teacher, fatass!" Stan said angrily. Liane opened her mouth, then closed it, since poopieskins had everything under control.

"Stan, the fact is Kenny beat you up, and you look even more like a pansy than usual." Cartman said, "God, this is even stupider than when your sister gives you a fucking bloody nose."

"Eric, watch your language, remember what Mr. Mackey said? You don't want to have to see a psychologist now, do you?" Liane put her hands on her hips.

"Ugh, fine, Mam. Lemme revise that..." Cartman cleared his throat; "God, this is even stupider than when your sister gives you a freakin' bloody nose." he turned to his mother, "Is that better?"

"Well... it'll do." Liane shrugged, "You run along, Poopsiekins and play nicely with your friends, okey-dokey?" she smiled, "Oh, um, Stanley, where do your parents want me to bring in the food? I tried to cook as much as I could to help out with the big feast for everyone; it's so generous of your parents to have so many families over!"

"In the kitchen, Mrs. Cartman." Stan pointed back past the living room.

Kyle gritted his teeth. How could Stan stay so cool when Kyle wanted to give that fat asshole a bloody nose himself? He frowned when he saw Stan lean into Cartman,

"Thank God you're here dude; I wanted to introduce you to someone. Keep it up, I need your help."

Liane went back to the car to get all of the food out of the back as the boys continued to talk, "I still can't believe you need my help. Who do you want to introduce me to? I already know your stupid family. The two gun lovers, your stupid dad, your mom and tits, your grandpa with no memory, your evil sister..."

"You haven't met Uncle Dean, Aunt Joanne or Cousin Stephanie yet." Stan said, "They're nightmares. My uncle is some kind of cross-dressing football-obsessive Historian, my aunt thinks she's my mother, and my cousin is some kind of cynical asshole... huh... but yeah!"

"Fine give me twenty dollars and I'll do it."

Stan's eyes shifted from Kyle whose mouth was open in shock to Cartman who was holding out his hand expectantly. He would never actually give into his sociopathic friend but this seemed as good as an opportunity as any. "Come up to my room, Fatass and I'll get it."

"Stan, I can't believe you'll actually do that. Cartman, why don't you just fuck off and leave Stan alone?"

"Oh, sorry if I'm offering my services to my friend. I know I'm worth a good price. Even Stan knows that."

"Yeah Kyle, I'm going along since I'm such a pussy, remember." Stan smirked as his friend as he headed up to his bedroom, a temper tantrum in front of Aunt Joanne and maybe she'd fuck off. "This way, guys!"

He opened his bedroom door to see his aunt had disappeared but had laid out what he assumed was clothing for him to wear for dinner, the same sweater his parents got him for the brief time the Marsh family converted to being Mormon and the slacks his mom got him to wear to church.

"Pft, Stan, you lay out your clothes in advance? Fag!" Cartman began to laugh again.

"Ugh, I thought my aunt would be up here, but she decided to finally fuck off. How convenient." Stan sighed, rubbing his nose again lightly, since a pinch would hurt it.

Kyle slapped Stan's hand away from his face. "Stop that, I know that's a habit of yours but you'll only irritate your injury more if you keep doing that."

"Goddamnit, Stan, stop wasting my time. Give me my money and show me your stupid relatives so I can get this over with and enjoy some fucking food." Cartman's time was valuable, and it was being wasted on lesser begins yet again.

This was working out better than expected, Stan just needed an audience. "Hey, hey, hold on Cartman. I need to find my aunt first, okay? Calm down." Stan crossed his arms. God was Cartman an impatient asshole sometimes.

"No, I will not calm down! Goddamnit, I am putting myself out for you, Stan, and so far, I am not getting any collateral, okay?"

"Just...follow me. You too, Kyle." Stan headed back into the hall, looking for his aunt.

"Ugh, fine." Cartman sighed, crossing his arms and following Stan reluctantly.

Stan almost tiptoed past Shelly and Stephanie's room and knocked softly on the guest room. He waited a few moments with his friends behind him; they must think he was acting crazy by now. "Come on, guys let's try the kitchen." Stan started down the stairs when his mom rushed by, a large brown stain all over her shirt and cooking apron, not surprisingly Kenny was right behind her.

"What the hell happened to your mom, Stan?" Cartman said, getting an eyeful.

Stan grabbed Kenny by the sleeve as he passed the group on the stairs and waited until his mom slammed her bedroom door shut before he confronted him. "Kenny, what did you do?"

"Absolutely nothing." Kenny swore, "Your mom was just distracted at the best possible time, but she spilled it on herself, honest! She just needs to pay better attention to what she's doing instead of cute fourth graders." When it came to boobs, Kenny was a master of manipulation.

"Yeah, it was all my mom's fault, of course. Kenny either stay with me and the rest of the group the rest of the day or just leave my house, I mean it."

Kenny crossed his arms, "I dunno, Stan, I don't benefit from this plan much. You're gonna need to put something in it for me."

"I already owe Cartman twenty bucks; I don't know what I could give you."

"Hmm... how about one of your mom's bras?" Kenny suggested, hopping with excitement. Kenny was a kid who knew what he wanted.

"Twenty dollars to Fatass, one of my mom's...ugh bras to you. Do you want something Kyle?" Stan started to raise his hand again for a nosebridgepinch, but Kyle slapped it down again.

"Don't give me anything; just stop doing that, okay?"

Stan put his arms down and pointed to his mom's closed bedroom door. "When she comes out, you have one minute in there and I don't want to see anything. Then after that we have a peaceful Thanksgiving dinner."

Kenny hugged Stan tightly, "Oh man, dude, you're the best bro a guy could ask for." Cartman began laughing his ass off, appropriately enough.

Stan rolled his eyes and pushed his friend off him. Sharon came out of her bedroom a moment later in a different shirt. "I've got to be more careful, you too, Kenny. You could have been severely burned." She smiled and patted the hooded boy on the head.

Stan wanted to puke at the smug smile on Kenny's face his friend hugged his mom around the waist but kept his own arms firmly at his sides remembering his promise to Kyle. "Don't you have to cook some more, Mom?"

"We're just about done, Stanley. I told you to keep an eye on the door when people arrive. You never listen." She scolded as Kenny let go and she headed downstairs.

"So now what?" Kyle asked, confused, wondering what all this strange suspense he'd seemed to have missed out on was building up towards.

"Kyle, you go downstairs and keep an eye on the adults, Starvin Marvin, and the door. Me and Cartman have to go look for Aunt Joanne... hey, maybe she's visiting Grandpa, he's barely left the guest room all day!" Stan suggested - the room was across from his parents' room, so he could keep a good eye out anyway. Kyle rolled his eyes,

"Fine, Stan." He walked downstairs with a small sigh.

"Fuck, we have to talk to your stupid grandpa, too? Goddamnit Stan, you're going to owe me big time for this one." Stan shushed him and approached the guest room, knocking,

"Grandpa? Grandpa, are you in there?"

"Billy, is that you? Billy?" he heard his Grandpa's voice and opened the door to see the old man watching television, "See that, Billy? That's Okinawa, I served there back in the fifties!" he said proudly.

"Grandpa, you were in the Royal Air Force, not a soldier, and you flew spitfires over Germany, you weren't on the Pacific front or anything. Besides, that's a Godzilla movie... and for the last time, it's Stan, dammit!" Cartman laughed at Stan's expense once again. "Oh my God, I'm starting to sound just like Uncle Dean... fuck."

"Billy, now what did I tell you about using language like that?" Grandpa said sternly, "Wait... really, what did I tell you? I can't remember... my head hurts..." Marvin Marsh rubbed his forehead in pain.

Stan was already well used to being constantly annoyed with his family but with his grandfather there was always the added bonus of guilt in the mix. He had no fight left in him when it came to his grandfather since as much as it bothered him to be called the wrong name or being asked to assist in suicide he'd always try to solve the problem objectively in his own way, since if he left it to his dad, well it would be way worse. Cartman following him wouldn't be much help either.

"Dinner's starting soon, Grandpa. It's Thanksgiving and we have company."

"Yeah, you can kill yourself afterwards, that way when you die we can call this your Last Supper." Cartman chuckled.

"Dude!" Stan elbowed his fat friend in the ribs. "You're not helping. You want to see if I can bring you anything Grandpa? I'll come get you when we start eating."

"Billy, if you really wanted to do me a favor you'd get your father's gun for Grandpa."

Stan sighed and changed the channel on his Grandpa's TV to the football game to hopefully get his mind off any wars he may have served in. He dragged Cartman out to the hall. "If you're going to do that kind of stuff do it to my Aunt Joanne. My Grandpa just has to get the idea in his head and he won't shut up about suicide for hours. I've had enough problems today."

"Oh relax, Stan, you pussy hippie, everything'll be fine, your Grandpa couldn't kill himself if he had the freakin' gun barrel in his mouth." Cartman laughed again, rolls of fat jiggling, "I doubt you even have a dumb Aunt Joanne - you're probably making it up to keep me from picking on your family."

"I wouldn't have a problem if you told Aunt Joanne to kill herself." Stan said, remembering the drama in the hall. He noticed from his view in the hall his parent's bedroom door was still closed. Oh goddammit, he almost forgot about Kenny. Stan pushed open the door to find his mother's underwear drawer wide open, a pile of panties and bras, all lacy and in every color of the rainbow, resting in the middle of the floor, looking like it had been rolled in. Kenny however had relocated himself to a window, still holding a couple bras in one hand. He must have had difficulty making a selection.

Stan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to count to ten in his mind. Just...his mom's underwear scattered all over the place, no boy ever wanted to see that. "What the fuck? I said one bra and one minute. You blew your chance. Just...fucking clean it up." as he turned to look away.

"Damn, dude, your mom has kinky taste in underwear. Who knew? She dresses so conservatively." Cartman smirked.

Stan punched Cartman in the shoulder and left the room. He could care less at this point if Kenny got in trouble or whatever comments Cartman had to say. His last cool friend was Kyle; he just needed to hang out with Kyle now.

"I was having trouble making a decision, fucking relax." Kenny replied as he quickly and neatly folded everything back in the drawer, except the last two bras, looking to Cartman, "Dude, Stan won't be any good advice here. Should I take the lacier dark blue one, or the skimpier pink one? The pink one's kind of boring but it shows more cleavage, but the dark blue one is so much lacier... Goddamnit, making choices is hard!"

"Kenny, you are such a fucking fag." Cartman shook his head, "Just pick one and let's go already, God."

"Damnit, one of you guys has to help me make a choice here." Kenny sounded like a whiny kid, albeit one in the world's greatest candy store, "Dark blue or pink?"

"Just take the one you'd rather jack it with you freakin' homo." Cartman crossed his arms. Kenny shrugged and tossed away the pink one, tucking the dark blue one away. "Fag."

Once Stan left the room, Kenny pocketed the pink bra as well, as well as a couple of other favorites from the drawer before closing it. Having a huge parka coat could have its benefits. He closed the drawer carefully. Phew. Just as he was about to leave he heard a shrill, loud scream and looked out the window.

Meanwhile, Stan poked his head into his Grandpa's room one last time to see he had dozed off. Good, he hadn't heard any of that. He continued down the stairs to find Kyle, Ike and Marvin sitting on the Marsh family couch with Cousin Stephanie. He looked down on them from midway down the stairs; if Stephanie hated him she'd probably hate Kyle as well.

"So you must be Stephanie. I'm Kyle Broflovski, I live down the street." Kyle introduced himself.

To get through today Stephanie had brought in the heavy duty reading, she had a hardback copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban with her today. It was her favorite and she'd need it to ignore everyone. Another one of her stupid cousin's friends was trying to talk nice to her, her eyes flicked up briefly to this new guy. Suddenly the writing of JK Rowling was lost on her, chocolate brown eyes, a few twisty auburn curls poking out from under a rather unique hat, a pearly white smile, and suddenly the book in her hands was meaningless, "Oh, um, hi..." she put a few fingers to her hair, blushing.

Kyle didn't understand why when he talked to girls his age their faces would flush and they never had anything interesting to say. Maybe she was hungry or maybe she needed glasses to be able to read her book properly. Kyle leaned across her lap to switch on the table lamp. "Is that better? Ooh, I like that book too, is it your first time reading it? How far in are you? Did you get to the part where Harry fights off the Dementors yet? Those things are so creepy!"

Stephanie regained her composure, she loved discussing books in depth with intelligent people, she never got to talk Harry Potter with a guy this cute before. "I'm almost done with it, actually. Second full read-through of the series. Barely had time to touch them since they ended a couple years back. Azkaban's definitely one of my favorites though. Sirius is a wonderful character."

"Yeah, everyone seems to like him." Of course the girls liked him, but still, Kyle still liked the character, "Shame he had to die though."

"Heh, watch who you say that in front of, you don't want to spoil it for anybody." Stephanie chuckled.

"Oh my brother, Ike reads them too; he's a genius you know. Hey Marvin do they have Harry Potter on Marklar?"

Stan was sitting down in the middle of the stairs, eavesdropping on the conversation. For the second time this weekend not being into Harry Potter was screwing him over once again.

Suddenly there were voices from outside: "Oh, and here we go again! Maybe if you could keep a fuckin' job, Stuart, I wouldn't berate you for being a lazy ass piece of shit in front of the kids!"

Kevin's voice piped in: "Hey, is this chocolate or dog shit?"

"Kevin, don't eat that you stupid dumbass." Stuart reprimanded his son before turning back to his wife, "Oh, it's my fault you're an ugly skank now?"

"I ain't no ugly skank! Fer your information, you're lucky I even married your sorry ass to begin with!"

"Oh, can the crap you stupid bitch!" Stuart called out, "All you care about is money, you know that? That's all it is with you!"

"If all I cared about was money, I'd have married some dumb hack, not some dumb hick!" The sound of a slap, "Now how about you just ring the fuckin' doorbell?"

"Why don't you make Karen do it? It's not like she's useful for much else!"

"And there you go, bringing the kids into it! D'you know how fuckin' low that is? You're so terrible at fightin' you have to use the kids like fuckin' pawns!"

Finally there was a knock and then came horribly off-key singing that sounded less like singing and more like a mentally retarded child trying to string words together, "Ding dong, let us in, ding dong, let us in. Happy Thanksgiving! Happy Thanksgiving! Can we eat now?"

"...awh, do we have to answer that?" asked Uncle Dean, "I don't like where this is going at all."

"It's only polite." Sheila Broflovski said, snatching the key from Sharon's hand, "Let me get that for you, Sharon dear." Despite her husband's silent protest at seeing his ex-best friend, Sheila moved forward and unlocked the door, "Stuart, um, and family, Happy Thanksgiving, we're so glad to see you!"

Suddenly all was forgotten between the parents, "Oh, hi Sheila. We brought over a few cans of creamed corn and some Pabst Blue Ribbon... we didn't have much around the house, heh." Stuart explained.

"I was gonna cook some stew but then I forgot the stove's been broken since 'ninety seven." Carol explained, "Besides, we don't have a can opener."

"I-I told ya if we pressed the ringy thing they'd let us in, it always works!" Kevin shook his fists with glee and grinned, "Hiya Mr. Marsh, Mrs. Marsh, Mr. Broslofski, Mrs. Broflowski, Mrs. Playboy Lady, uh... I don't know any adults else here... dang... oh, hiya, poofball hat kid! Hiya, Canadian kid! Hiya, Russian sombrero kid! Hiya, fat kid, and 'course hiya Shelly!"

"Kevin, shut the hell up." Stuart commanded his son, rolling his eyes. Goddamnit.

"Oh, is that little Karen? Awh, the poor little dear, she's adorable. Why don't you bring her around more often?" Sharon said as she noticed the little girl at her parents' feet, holding tightly onto a doll.

"Oh, don't mind her, she's shy." Carol explained.

Stan got up to greet the new guests since answering the door had always been his job when he was practically pushed out of the way and knocked against the banister as Kenny hurried by to greet his family.

"Mom, Dad, Karen, Kevin!" Kenny stopped and greeted, "I was wondering when you'd finally get your asses over here." he replied with an almost shocking amount of cheer. Kenny usually showed distaste for his family, but maybe he was just in a really good mood. He scooped up his little sister in his arms and she nuzzled into his jacket, hugging him tightly. Stuart patted his son on the head proudly,

"Been having fun with your Uncle Jimbo's family?" Stuart said with a chuckle. It seemed the entire McCormick family had accepted Jimbo into their fold. Kenny nodded,

"Yeah, it's been totally awesome." Kenny replied, "I got to try all sorts of food you guys probably haven't had since... um... what year was the Peanut Guy elected President?"

"Mm, Jimmy Carter beat Gerald R. Ford in the 1976 Presidential Election." Ned reported from the sidelines.

"Yeah, since then!" Kevin shook his fists, hugging on to his siblings. Stuart and Carol actually smiled at each other,

"Ain't that jus' the sweetest dang thing, Stu?" Carol smiled. Stuart put an arm around her with a nod, "The kids are all bondin' like real siblings, like me and my sisters way back in the day..."

He got back up to be knocked down again as Cartman stood behind him and laughed, Stan's face was now pressed against the banister and he had a damn good view of Stephanie and Kyle looking like they were having a goddamn ball.

"What are you jealous or something?" He heard Cartman above him.

Rule number one, never tell Cartman what you're really feeling, especially when he can use it against you later. "Nah this feels good on my face, see?"

"Whatever, I'm getting bored and your Xbox controller was dead. Do something entertaining until your dad gets too drunk or we can eat or they start the Terrance and Phillip Thanksgiving Special so I can see how they fucked it up this year."

"Cartman, shut the fuck up." Stan started to get up when Aunt Joanne walked through the group at the front door with a bag of groceries in her hand. She dropped them immediately into Sharon's arms and walked up the stairs.

"My goodness, Stanley. Did you fall again? Sharon, why weren't you watching him?"

Sharon was halfway into the kitchen when she immediately turned around marching towards the stairs again. Not again. "No, no Aunt Joanne, it feels good on my face, I told Fatass that already."

Sharon stopped and saw her son seemed to have it under control and went back into the kitchen.

"Stanley, don't you know making fun of another child's physical appearance is very psychologically damaging? Your friend can have mistrust and food issues his entire adult life."

"Yeah and I'm not fat I'm big boned anyway. Does the wood feel good against your broken nose Stan? Let me help you." Cartman smacked Stan in the back of the head causing his face to rub against the banister. Stan would probably jump up and shove Cartman down the stairs and Aunt Joanne after him but this was good, Aunt Joanne would probably hate this.

"Oh that's good, help little Stanley. He doesn't know any better. What's your name young man?"

"Eric Theodore Cartman, Ma'am."

"Oh I've heard a lot about you, Stanley said he was your best friend."

Cartman put on his best smirk, "Oh, hello there, Ma'am, you must be Stan's Aunt Joanne!" he said politely, before his voice returned to normal, "'sup bitch? You aren't Jewish by any chance are you? I've heard so much about you, but Stan always leave out such important information." Cartman shook his head, "How old are you? You look like... I dunno, fifties? Say, how much do you weigh? I bet it's a lot." Cartman gave Stan a wink to show he was being a true asshole. Stan would facepalm if his face wasn't pressed up against the wood and Aunt Joanne's eyes widened.

"Eric, exactly how close are you and Stanley?"

"Oh, we're best buddies. We've been through everything together." Cartman grinned fakely, "I mean, pft, like uh, we flooded Beavertown, that was cool! And we did a music video together, and this one time, in the third grade, he was super cool and told his girlfriend to make out with me! Did I mention the time we pretended my ass was his mam's tits?" Stan contemplated suicide for several moments as Joanne covered her mouth,

"Stanley, Eric, I didn't... I..." Joanne got on her knees and put her hands on Cartman's shoulders, "Eric, look, it's... perfectly okay to be... having these kinds of feelings. There's nothing wrong with it, no matter what anyone tells you. It's perfectly natural to have feelings for your best friend, okay? I had feelings for my best friend in college and now I married him." Stan was ready to murder his aunt now, "And if anyone tries to tell you to go to hell or anything like that, just remember, a lot of famous and talented people were gay."

"Pft, like who?" Cartman crossed his arms.

"Leonardo Da Vinci, Freddie Mercury... um... Neil Patrick Harris." Joanne stood up, "I think I've made my point clear."

Stan finally pulled himself up and was stuck between Joanne and Cartman. "Aunt Joanne I am not gay, especially for someone like Cartman."

"You're standing awfully close to him and you body language says otherwise."

Stan gagged and promptly shoved Cartman away from him and walked back up to his room. He better not get too close to Kyle because god knows what mental gymnastics Aunt Joanne would come up with to pair them.

"Eh! What was that for you pussy! I was trying to help you!"

"It's okay Eric, unrequited love is a subject I have an interest in if you ever wanted to discuss it before the day is through. Or you can make an appointment at my office in Denver."

"You're not the first to tell me I need psychological help but it's not my fault. It's Stan's. He said he'd give me twenty bucks and now he's not! I should go tell my mam on him."

Joanne turned around and called out to her husband. "Dean give this boy some money to make up for our nephew's bad behavior!"

Uncle Dean came up and pulled out his wallet. "Would $50 cover it young man?"

Cartman held out his hand. "I'm a tad psychologically damaged from my unrequested love. Better make it $100."

Stan rushed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He stood still for a bit, feeling the blood rush to his ears as he gritted his teeth. He jumped onto his unmade bed and threw the clothes laid out for him onto the floor, punching his pillow before throwing that on the floor as well, the blankets were next and he was about to go for the sheets when he heard his door open and Kenny was there with his entire family behind him, all of them looking extremely confused.

"Um are we interrupting something here? Making a love nest for you and fatass?"

'Shut up, Kenny. What the hell are you and your family doing in my room?"

"We were told there wasn't enough room at the table so we're supposed to eat in here." Stuart explained, "We just wanted to get a feel for the place, y'know?"

"It's nicer than eating on that crappy wooden table at home!" Kenny grinned, pushing past Stan and flopping on his bed. Kevin joined him, jumping up and down on the bed and grinning. Karen went up and took a pillow, "Hey what's that for?"

"I thought I'd try to make a fort." Karen suggested, "Um, that's okay, right?" her heart quickly sank down.

"Hey, hey, no, there's toys for you, Kare." Kenny hopped off the bed and went towards the pile of toys from Aunt Joanne and Uncle Dean, including the pony, and the Barbie, and the skirt, "See?"

"Ooh, a pony! I always wanted a pony!" Karen hugged it tightly, smiling. Kenny patted her on the back. Stuart and Carol, meanwhile, were hypnotically staring at the bed.

"My, that bed is... awful bouncy..." Carol said quietly. She and Stuart exchanged looks for a moment. "Wonder how much weight it can hold..." she winked at him. Kevin hopped off the bed,

"Hey, poofball hat kid, ain't your sister that Shelly Marsh girl?" Kevin said.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, you are not going to hit on my sister." Stan crossed his arms, "Larry's dead, Amir's states away, and Skyler was a paedophile. My sister's had enough trouble, okay?"

"God, sorry, I asked... hey, is that her skirt?" Kevin ran over by Karen and pulled out the skirt, "Man, heheh, she'd look awful purdy in this one." he grinned.

"Dude, let's get her to try it on." Kenny smirked, "'cause you know what I got?" he pulled out the Polaroid camera and shook it in Kevin's face, the older brother snatching it, "Hey, wow, you got some pictures of a super hot chick earlier... but her boobs are kinda saggy."

Stuart and Carol sat on the bed, Stan getting off it immediately as he saw Kenny's father put an arm around his wife and pull her close. Someone needed to remind Stan to burn his sheets later.

Stan backed into a corner of his own bedroom as Kenny's parents started kissing on his bed; Karen grabbed the toys and followed her brothers out into the hall. He almost tripped on a box near the front of his door and noticed a fresh case of beer. Pabst Blue Ribbon? Sounded fancy. Out of options and sanity he grabbed a can and decided he wouldn't feel like a total alcoholic if he at least gave some to Grandpa as well.

Better solution that his father's gun, for both of them.


	8. Chapter 8

The folded-out dinner table in the Marsh dining/living room was enormous - so much so the couch and furniture had to be moved to accommodate it, and the fold-out chairs it required. The head of the table, back in the dining room, was reserved for Randy Marsh, being the patriarch. The left side, from their side towards the opposite side of the house, included Sharon Marsh, Grandpa Marvin Marsh, Uncle Jimbo, Ned Gerblansky, Gerald and Sheila Broflovski, then their sons Kyle and Ike, and finally two open seats - one for Stan, and one for Shelly. Opposite them sat Dean Kimble, Joanne Kimble, Liane Cartman, five open seats for the McCormick family, Eric Cartman, and Stephanie Kimble. The opposite of the head was an open seat which was given to Starvin Marvin, since he was the royal guest of honor.

"Damnit, Howard, I'm hungry, where the hell's the food!?" Marvin banged his fist on the table. He didn't serve in the Royal Air Force so his son and daughter-in-law could dick around when he was hungry.

"Where's Stan? I should go check on him, Sweetie..." Joanne got up when Dean yanked her down,

She tried to get up as Dean tried to pull her back down, "Honey, he needs some freedom. He's ten now, it's his choice what he does with his body."

"What?" Joanne raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Dean asked.

"And then, you know, the seventh book came out, and dude, they finally had Ron and Hermione get together, and so all those dumb retards who thought Harry and Hermione belonged together got put in their place." Kyle was explaining.

"Dumb retards?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Well, yeah dude, the hints were like anvil-sized. We were right, they were wrong." Kyle continued.

Stephanie looked down for a moment, and then softened, although she still looked displeased, "I'd be pissed off, but at least we can both agree that Hermione and Malfoy is friggin' crazy."

"Right on!" Kyle grinned.

"Hey ya'll, sorry we're late gettin' down here." The McCormick family arrived to take their seats, "Sorry about all that, we were gonna eat in Stan's bedroom to save some trouble but it... wasn't such a good idea." Carol began adjusting her hair and shirt again, as Stuart fixed his hat,

"Uh, yeah, we ran into some, uh, turbulence, heh..." Stuart chuckled. "So, where's the food?" Karen took a seat next to her mother, looking around. She noticed Ike Broflovski and waved a bit, and he waved back. Karen smiled, but no words were exchanged between the two yet.

"More importantly than that, where's Shelly?" Kevin McCormick asked excitedly, licking his lips. He cared far more for the fate of his possible love interest than for the fate of his stomach. It was perhaps sweet, in a sick sort of way.

"Ugh, Goddamnit, I'm surrounded by freaks." Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose. Joanne smiled - ah, Eric really was the perfect boy for her nephew.

Finally, Randy and Sharon left the kitchen, Sharon placing plates and pans of food on the table for the feast. Randy helped for a moment, then turned his head towards the staircase,

"Stan, Shelly, dinner's ready, get downstairs you, two!"

Grandpa hadn't been in his room when Stan entered, a few cans of beer stuffed into his coat pockets. He drank the first beer while sitting on his grandfather's bed watching the football game. It was one small thing he could probably still enjoy, even though it was now a common interest with his Uncle. He hated to think the Broncos merchandise all over his bedroom would probably annoy him and would be thrown out along with his blue and white striped sheets. It didn't take much for things to be completely ruined for Stan these days.

On the second beer, between commercials, he observed the walls of his grandfather's room, an ugly gray-green color. He had the realization that things didn't look any better. Usually after a few drinks everything would be sunshine and roses by now. He looked at his reflection in the mirror over the dresser, his awesome broken nose staring back at him. Instead of doing that thing Kyle said he did too much, he grabbed his grandfather's pocket knife and poked a hole in his third beer to try and chug it all at once, since he'd seen his father shotgun beers all the time.

By the fourth beer the only thing that had changed (other than some of the third beer was now spilled on his coat) was Stan deciding the next time someone in the house pissed him off, he'd tell them exactly what he thought of them. No exceptions.

Stan heard his name being called and threw the empty cans under his grandfather's bed and headed downstairs. Shelly was coming out of her room. Stan's eyes bugged out at what his sister was wearing. "Is that the skirt Uncle Dean and Aunt Joanne gave me?"

"What? Are you jealous that I'm wearing your skirt?" Shelly gave an evil, spit-filled grin; her braces gleamed, like a bear trap or a solid steel knife.

No holding back. "You don't even realize how terrible you look in it. All your stomach fat is bunched over the sides. Maybe you should take a few fashion tips from Cartman to hide that kind of shit."

The look on her face had almost been worth it, before once again, Stan found himself being flung down the stairs. He was getting better at this kind of treatment and remembered to curl his body into a ball so he landed at the bottom almost pain free. Almost. He looked up to see the entire Thanksgiving table stop talking and stare at him, his mother at the kitchen door with the turkey platter in her hands.

"What, like you haven't seen me get hurt enough already this weekend? You're probably enjoying it by now!" Stan picked himself up and took a seat next to Ike.

The entire table murmured to themselves when once again they all stopped to stare at Shelly clumsily walking down the stairs in a too tight skirt and too high heels. Randy was coming out of the kitchen now with a large bowl of unopened creamed corn when he nearly dropped it. "What the hell are you wearing young lady?"

Stan smirked as he leaned down to whisper to Ike. "Hey do you mind switching seats with me? I kind of want to sit next to Kyle." Ike looked past Stan's seat at Shelly, his small Canadian eyes looking her up and down, then back at Kyle, and promptly moved. Stan settled in his new seat, as Sharon set down the turkey platter, and went back in the kitchen to get some gravy.

"Stanley, you poor baby, what happened on the stairs? Did you trip?" Joanne shook her head, "Dean, can you believe how many injuries poor Stanley gets himself into? I swear, one day that boy's going to get himself killed." Kenny glared at her, "I'm sorry, Kenneth. Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's peachy." Oh sure, when Stan's getting hurt it's a big deal! That was when Sharon came back and began pouring gravy on the mashed potatoes. Kenny grinned as she leaned down to do so - as did some of the other men at the table. Sheila was not distracted terribly, however, and tried to stir up conversation,

"So did any of you hear about that brain-dead teenager who can't do anything but text and roll her eyes? They say her parents are going to euthanize her." Sheila was already planning her social activism for the event, looking at the shocked faces of the people around her.

"Kids these days..." Marvin grumbled, shaking his head.

"Sheila, we've been over this before, that article was from The Onion. It's not really true, it's just for fun." Gerald tried to explain.

"What do you mean it's not true, Gerald? Did you see that poor girl in the video?" Sheila said incredulously, "They were just going to kill her like some kind of sick animal!"

"Sheila, the Onion isn't a real news website; it's just a bunch of jokes and satire. You know, like The Colbert Report?" Sharon explained as she brought back a pan full of stuffing. Sheila looked down and turned red,

"All right, okay, fine..."

"So Randy, did you guys really just buy a turkey at the store?" Jimbo asked with a mischievous grin, "Or did you and Stanley go on a hunt and forget to invite us?"

"Pft, Stan hunting? That'd be like freakin' Elton John going to Hooters!" Cartman laughed. Joanne smiled,

"Eric, it's nice that you've become comfortable enough with your sexuality that you can make open references to gay culture, without feeling embarrassed or self-conscious. Now if only Stanley was as open-minded and comfortable with himself as you were."

“If Cartman’s gay for anyone in this room it’s Kyle!” Stan yelled at his aunt.

Kyle turned away from a pleasant conversation with Stephanie to look quizzically at his best friend. “Um, what?”

“Am I the only one who’s sees how obvious it is? How about the time Cartman made Kyle suck his balls? It’s only a matter of time before fatass goes around declaring him and Kyle a gay couple.” Stan continued to rant.

Kyle froze as the mashed potatoes were passed to him. He took a closer look at his best friend, Stan’s eyes narrowed but unfocused and something spilled all over him, the distinct smell of alcohol. Not this again. “Stan...” Kyle said carefully, in a voice you’d use for a very small child or to coax a wild animal out of a tree. “Just stop talking and eat, now.” Kyle put two large scoops of mashed potatoes on Stan’s plate and shoved a fork into his hand.

“Stanley Marsh, why are you so insensitive? I thought me and your uncle taught you better than that! You need to learn to accept your sexuality like your little friend Eric instead of playing games.” Joanne said sternly.

“Wait, what?” Randy said, “Stan’s about as gay as I am.” Randy put his hands on his hips, angry. How dare they accuse his son of being gay?

Joanne turned to Marvin, “I’m sorry your son and grandson both appear to be in denial about their sexualities.”

“It’s okay. For a faggot, Billy turned out pretty good.” Marvin smiled proudly.

“Goddamnit, nobody here is gay!” Randy crossed his arms with annoyance. Ugh, what a bunch of dumbasses.

“I’m bisexual.” Liane piped in.

“This isn’t about you!” Randy shook his fists, glaring. Liane returned to her food.

“Well there was that one time in the hot tub, Randy.” Gerald said, his eyes shifting to his wife for a reaction. “Not that that’ll happen to Kyle or Stan, mind you.”

Randy turned to his son, “Stan, Daddy won’t judge you; you haven’t masturbated in front of another man have you?”

Stan shifted his eyes around the table. “...Um, do those times in San Diego count, Dad?”

Sharon stood up, “Randy! I’ve had just about enough of this! Can’t we have a normal dinner in this family without talking about gay people or current events or-”

“Hey, didn’t Stanley jack off your dog Sparky back during one of our Book Club meetings?” Sheila brought up.

Sharon sat down, “It’s okay, Sharon, you can file for a third divorce later...” she mumbled to herself.

Cartman laughed as he took the largest part of the turkey breast for himself; with everyone else so distracted he also grabbed both drumsticks as well. “Are you hearing this, Aunt Joanne? All the stuff Stan does to mess with my fragile heart? I think I need another hundred dollars.”

Kyle practically jumped up at the table, leaning into Cartman from across the table. “What are you going to spend your money on Cartman? Enough cheesy poofs to make you a double ass master supreme? Normal fatass isn’t good enough for you?”

“Look, look Aunt Joanne; he’s even got Kyle taunting me as well. You better back down Jew-boy before I have you on your knees in front of all our families by the time dinner is over.” Cartman sneered.

Kyle almost choked on his food, realizing for the first time the shit Cartman told him could be taken as sexual to outsiders, but did indeed back down. “You fat motherfucker.” He mumbled under his breath.

Stan had his hand on his chin and was poking at his food, glaring at all the adults in the room. He could let San Diego and the Sparky incident go, but since skeletons were being drug out of the closet right now, he had something else to address. “Mom, I hope you realize what Kenny has been trying to make you do all weekend. You too, Shelly. Aunt Joanne. Stephanie.”

“Stanley! You will be respectful of the people we invited over.” Sharon said sternly as she crossed her arms over her chest. Stan rolled his eyes as he watched her husband, Cartman’s mom, Kenny, Kevin, Kenny’s Dad, Ike, hell even Kyle’s dad look away in embarrassment. The only males whose eyes weren’t fixated on Sharon’s chest were her family members and Kyle and Cartman; still glaring at each other from across the table. Shelly turned beet red as Stan saw her pull down the skirt from her seat.

“Respect? You like my nine year old soon to be ex-friend trying to get you to take your shirt off in front of him for the past forty-eight hours? You can’t be that stupid mom; if you were I’d start to think I was adopted." Stan held up his hand. "Don’t get any ideas, Aunt Joanne.”

“...what the heck are you talking about, Stanley?” Joanne asked, crossing her arms over her own, less impressive chest.

“Stan, I know your mom has a hot rack, but do you really need to get all incestuous at the table? Some of us are trying to eat here.” Cartman rolled his eyes.

“Hey, uh, how about we do grace, huh? Before we eat?” Stuart interrupted. He loved discussing boobs, but this wasn’t the right context, “Who wants to do the honours?”

Randy tore his eyes away from a fuming Sharon, proud he managed to still have the hottest wife out of all his friends. Well maybe not, his eyes flicking to Carol before answering Stuart. "Well we were Catholic, then Atheist and then Mormon. Now I'm not sure what we are but between all that we haven't been praying before meals lately."

"Maybe that's why your family goes through so much trouble all the time." Stuart suggested, "You really should pray before your meals. It brings good luck."

"Like you'd know anything about luck." Gerald mumbled, but Stuart didn't seem to hear that.”

"Now, now, now." Uncle Dean spoke up from his seat next to Randy. "I wouldn't dismiss the power of prayer over luck, but the Broncos did just beat the Giants 26-2."

Stan observed his Uncle was in a Broncos jersey, but knew damn well under the table he was still in that purple skirt. It wasn't as bad as Shelly but still....Stan pushed his plate away, puking at the dinner table wouldn't help the situation.

Randy considered it. "You know, Dean you're right. I'll do the honors then. Stan? Staaan. Get out your phone; you might want to get a picture of this. Anyone else who wants to join in can as well."

Stan sighed and got out his iPhone reluctantly. Kyle got out his own iPhone, as the tech geek and Apple hater of the group couldn't not own an iPhone if his father was a 'genius' for Apple now, despite all the literal shit he'd been put through. The McCormicks didn't have mobile phones really, except Kenny and sometimes Kevin, but neither of them saw reason to pull out theirs.

Kenny looked down, then pulled out the Polaroid camera, decided it couldn't hurt. The rest of his family didn't notice, moving into their prayer positions. The Broflovskis weren't sure what to do, considering they were of a different faith. Jimbo and Ned shrugged and moved into praying position as well. Sharon looked around awkwardly and decided to do so as well. How could Randy screw up a simple prayer after all?

Randy let out a mischievous grin as he shoved his chair back and got down on one knee, he put his elbow on his knee and his fist against his head. "Dear Lord, we would like to thank you for this bountiful and plentiful meal you have bestowed upon our families. And we are grateful such a tremendous feast is ours and not going to some dumb starving kids in some African country..."

Sharon's arms went back their crossed position, since her son had tried to point it out to her, missing her typical brown sweater. But all that embarrassment was forgotten. "Randy! What the hell are you trying to do this time?"

"It's a meme, Mom. An old one at that. Dad if you're going to pull that kind of crap, you should at least try to keep up with the times, here." Stan jumped up so he was standing on his chair. He pulled the chest part of his beer stained jacket out in the Faith Hilling position.

Kenny snapped a picture of Stan's dad Tebowing, then pointed the camera to Stan now Faith Hilling, snapping another picture. This was almost too perfect him. "Yeah Mrs. Marsh, you're way more up with the trends than Mr. Marsh is, try to do what Stan is doing."

“I’ve had enough of this stupidity. I’m changing my shirt!” Sharon got up and grabbed Shelly on her way to the stairs. “You too young lady, come on!”

“Awh.” Kevin said, looking down at his plate.

“It’s a damn shame isn’t it?” Kenny said, shaking him head.

Stan glared, "Goddamnit Kenny, stop harassing my mom! Your mom has nice boobs, why doesn’t anyone ever hit on her, huh?" Carol held her arms out and looked down in surprise. Many of the men of the table looked at her as well. Sheila looked offended, although for exactly which reason it was difficult to determine.

"I told you he wouldn't turn out gay!" Dean smirked to his wife, who was eating and seemingly not paying any attention; "Although of course this doesn't rule out transvestism..." he rubbed his chin and smiled.

"Stanley, did... did you by any chance, get into your dad's porno stash?" Jimbo asked, slightly scared right now.

"I'm proud of ya, Billy, give into your masculine instincts, don't be a goddamn pansy!" Grandpa shook his fists with happiness.

"Dude, you can't fucking blame me, your mom's rack is legendary around here." Kenny crossed his arms.

"It's true, it is." Liane said almost absent-mindedly as she ate.

"Well, two can play at that game, asshole!" Stan got up while Carol was examining herself and proceeded to slap her right on the ass.

A blush crossed her cheeks and she glared, “Augh! What the hell are you doin', kid? Can't ya at least gimme a goddamn warning or something?" She has her priorities straight. Carol stood up to face her drunken, injured, ten year old potential suitor.

Stan had nothing left to lose at this point; he took one look at Kenny and outstretched his arms, his eager hands grabbing Carol’s boobs for a full two seconds before he was shoved off by Stuart. "You little son of a bitch, I know my wife's a choice piece of ass but you get your fuckin' hands off her!" Stuart said, "Why, if I had my shotgun, I'd probably nod towards it in the corner or somethin' to scare you into thinkin' I'd use it!"

At the word 'shotgun' Stuart found himself face to face with Jimbo and Ned, their guns drawn at him. "Now hold on, if my nephew wants to chase some tail, it's the god given right of any red blooded American male. But Stanley, you have to be careful when it comes to fine ladies who are already married."

"Ma’am." Ned said, nodding towards Carol who was now behind Stuart.

"GERALD, DO SOMETHING!" Sheila shouted in disgust, or jealousy, one of the two. Gerald looked quite calmly to Liane Cartman, speaking in a casual monotone as if to a co-worker, not even looking toward his wife, "Does anyone ever do this to you, Liane?"

"Oh all the time, not often any of Eric's little friends though, except for Kenny." Liane explained, still eating like nothing was going on. "It's cute actually."

"I didn't mean THAT, Gerald!" Sheila said angrily, crossing her arms.

Sharon returned from upstairs dressed in her very baggy and unrevealing flowered pyjama top on top of her pants, Shelly right behind her in regular clothes. “RANDY MARSH!”

“Oh crap.” Stan put his arms behind his back, trying to look a bit innocent before his mom found out what he was trying to do.

His dad didn’t notice his reference, still in mid-prayer. The Tebowing position was very hard to get out of.

“It’s not your husband Mrs. Marsh; it’s your son tryin’ to get a piece of my wife in front of everyone.” Stuart said, putting a protective arm around Carol.

“STANLEY MARSH!”

“Amen!” Randy finally finished as he got up and looked around the side of the table. “What, what happened now? Why are you so mad, Sharon? It’s Thanksgiving.”

Sharon didn’t seem to see anything else in the room right now but her son, “Stanley Marsh, you go to your room right now, young man!”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on Billy, Cheryl! He’s a good kid and stuff!” Grandpa Marvin defended his grandson. “He came out a lot better than Howard.”

“Dad, could you please explain this Howard thing to me again?” Randy asked.

“See what I mean? He doesn’t know a goddamn thing, not even his own name.” Grandpa shook his head.

Stan held up his arms in surrender. “Kenny spills water on your shirt, tries to take your picture when you’re not looking, made Shelly try on a skirt three sizes too small, gave me a broken nose, and I’m the one in trouble? You know what, fine, I give up. Screw you guys, I’m going upstairs.” Stan was halfway to his room before he poked his head down again. ”Happy Thanksgiving, assholes.” He slammed his door shut.

Sharon faced the very quiet Thanksgiving table, trying to save face as she sat down. “He...gets very good grades.” she insisted.

“That’s not what I heard.” Cartman laughed as he served himself some more mashed potatoes - Mrs. Marsh always made the best fucking potatoes. He took a spoon and poured an unhealthy amount of gravy on it.

Stan inspected the mess his bedroom was. His sheets were in disarray, but most of the blankets and pillows remained on the floor. He decided to take a seat in front of his TV instead when he heard shouting one last time from his mom.

“Stanley! We will have a discussion about your grades after everyone’s left, young man!”

So much for the long weekend if he was grounded. If everyone else was going to yell at him he’d want to return the favor. He picked up his iPhone and scrolled through his contacts almost at random, except of course her name was almost at the end of the alphabet.

xXx

Wendy was at home, in the restroom splashing cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror trying to snap out of it. Her parents kept calling her downstairs to come and eat just a little bit, telling her she was being silly. She said she didn’t want to eat today as protest of the mistreatment of the Native Americans at the first Thanksgiving, but maybe her fast was an actual sign of depression. New Years was over a month away, but she’d take the beginning of the Christmas season as a fresh start. She’d get over her painful break up, start thinking towards the future; she’d always been a strong girl and never let things affect her this badly.

She dried her face with a towel and stood up straight in the mirror, considering brushing her hair or putting on some makeup. She settled on tying her hair back in a ponytail, as she heard her phone ring from her bedroom.

She entered her room and picked up her Blackberry, freezing at the number on the caller ID. Her friends told her to delete that number, but she never had the heart to. She hesitantly answered.

“Hello?”

“Wendy, I’d like to thank you.”

“Stan?” Her hope rose a bit, maybe things would be okay after all. “Thank me for what?”

“For teaching me a lesson. I learned something today from the worst Thanksgiving ever; if you truly care about a person you’ll let them get away with pretty much anything. They could be the most wretched, vile, scum of the earth, but if you love them you’ll ignore that and be a doormat to them no matter what. I’m just pointing out what you helped me see.”

“You mean... I helped you see that?” Wendy’s eyes narrowed but she couldn’t help but smile just a little bit. Perhaps there was hope after all. “I helped?”

“You’re terrible, my family is selfish, and my asshole friends can’t get along. Normally I'll forgive everyone. But I realized, you can let people you care about get away with murder. Because once they piss you off, you start realizing all the wrong they’ve done. Then you end up being the stupid one in the end. This is why I can't stand you anymore. Everyone else is a mess, and I've given up trying to fix it. But you were the first lost cause. I’d like you to hear that from me. Maybe you’ll learn something too. Um, happy Thanksgiving.”

The phone went dead and Wendy sat back, trying to get a grip on what he just said. Stan was obviously stressed but he didn’t have to take it out on her. But still, if he was blaming her for his attitude when he was so nice to her in the past maybe it was for the best they broke off contact. Wendy did what her friends had been telling to do for a while, and scrolled Stan’s name in her phone, deleting his contact information. She took a deep breath, trying to think of this as kick she needed. She’d indulge in her angst one more time and then go down stairs and have some food. Wendy grabbed the pillow off her bed and buried her face into it to muffle her sobs.

xXx

Stan rubbed his eyes as he looked at the ‘call ended’ screen. Then he crawled over to his desk and threw up several times in the trash can. Alcohol was a way better reason for puking than having a girlfriend ever was. At least his ex had been the one person to actually listen to him out of everyone this weekend.

Feeling a bit better, lighter from getting out his aggression, he grabbed his pillow and curled up on the floor to try and block out the shouting from downstairs.

A few hours later Stan heard knocking at his bedroom door. He opened his eyes but remained lying on the floor. “What do you want?”

“Your laundry service, sir.” Came a muffled voice.

“Dude, come on, why do you have to do that?” Another voice said.

“Because it’s funny.” The first voice laughed.

The door opened as Kenny and Kyle entered.

“Dude what the hell?’ Stan asked, finally sitting up.

“Kenny, the bed.” Kyle pointed as Kenny started pulling off the old sheets and remaking Stan’s bed.

“Sorry about my parents earlier. They tend to do that at a moment’s notice. I’ve seen beds left in worse conditions, you’re lucky.” Kenny tossed the dirty sheets on the floor next to Stan, who moved to get out of the way.

Kyle held his nose. “Ugh it reeks of puke in here. How come the one with the weak stomach in our group is most likely to grow up into an alcoholic?”

“Hey, I told Stan if he wanted a drinking buddy I’d be there for him.” Kenny said as he tossed the comforter over the bed and threw the pillows on top. “There, no harm done.”

“Yeah sure.” Stan mumbled under his breath. “What are you guys doing up here? One last goodbye before you don’t see me until our Christmas adventure?”

“Oh we’re here to cover your ass before your mom comes up here to yell at you, for hitting on Kenny’s mom and possibly your math grade. We didn’t want to see you also get busted for drinking on top of that.” Kyle started picking up scattered toys all over the floor; he opened the toy chest to see the asthma inhaler on top. “I didn’t know you had asthma, Stan.”

“I-” Stan stopped himself if Kyle didn’t remember where he got it from. “Yeah I’ve had it for months now.” He was about to elaborate and bullshit a bit more before Kenny shoved a cup into his hand. “What the hell is this?”

“Hangover cure.” Kenny smiled back at him. “Well my dad always makes it for himself and my mom. It’s mostly Gatorade, with a Five Hour Energy shot and a little bit of liquor. For the hair of the dog effect.”

“Ugh you stink of booze, Stan. You should probably change your shirt and throw your jacket in the wash with the dirty sheets just in case.” Kyle yanked on the sleeve of Stan’s jacket.

“Watch out Kyle, don’t give Aunt Joanne any ideas with you trying to take off Stan’s clothes.” Kenny said as he yanked the pillow Stan had been laying on out from under him, forcing his pathetic friend to stand up.

“No she only thinks fatass and Stan are a gay couple. But yeah you’re right.” Kyle walked over to Stan’s closet and tossed a t-shirt at him.

“Cartman? Why isn’t here to help, well to mock me?” Stan said as he caught the shirt.

“We left him downstairs to distract your parents from coming up here right away. I guess he’s taking the opportunity to scam a few more bucks out of your aunt and uncle.”

“Dumb asshole. I guess at least he isn’t up here with us.” Stan didn’t change, instead he looked over his stained clothes, dirty sheets, broken Lego sets, abandoned Xbox controllers, setting down the glass with the hangover concoction on the floor and his two friends helping him clean his room. “You guys, why are you doing all this for me?” He picked up some broken Legos. Goddamnit, that X-Wing took like, three days to build, not counting the time he spent chasing after his dad getting obsessed with aliens.

“Look Stan, we’re just trying to help, you asshole.” Kenny sighed, “I’m sorry I perved out on your mom all Thanksgiving, okay?” He said it a mix of regret and eagerness to get it over with.

Kyle took the broken Lego X-Wing out of Stan’s hand and set it on his dresser. “Thanksgiving’s been bastardized enough by The History Channel, I didn’t want to have to watch you two have a who can be most like their father contest, including the mom stuff.”

“You don’t want to grow up to be like your dad, Kyle?” Stan asked.

“Not if I can help it, both your dad’s drink but my dad...how can anyone stand to sniff cat pee, to get high off it or not.” Kyle wrinkled his nose in disgust as he kicked more mess of Stan’s toys under the bed.

“That’s not the point... look, Stan; I’m sorry I was a dick and tried to see your mom under-dressed and stuff.” Joke was really on Stan; Kenny still had a couple bras in there, “I was being a jackass. I was just jealous.”

“I’m sorry for being jealous too. You’re the only person who’s survived an extended weekend with my entire family and come out better than I have. I appreciate you guys helping me. But I won’t apologize for grabbing Kenny's mom’s ass and boobs; you deserved that since I wouldn’t break your nose.” Stan shook his head as he took a seat on his freshly made bed.

Kenny put a hand on his shoulder, “My dad would say you’re the lucky one... but I have to envy you. You got way further with my mom than I could ever hope to get with yours... actually you got further with both. Lucky bastard.”

“God will you stop referencing Superbad, Kenny? Seth Rogen’s a fat asshole and gives other Jews a bad name.” Kyle snapped as he threw a plastic toy giraffe at Kenny’s feet.

Kenny laughed as he dodged easily. “That gripe sounds a little bit personal, you okay Kyle?”

Kyle glared, “We could reference Family Guy, but noo, no one wants that.”

“Oh, stop letting it get to you, Kyle.” Kenny rolled his eyes. “It’s just a TV show.”

Kyle rolled his eyes back as he put the Xbox equipment neatly on the shelf. “There, now your room is pretty much clean. Though it still fucking stinks in here. I’m not cleaning that shit up.”

“I’m not either.” Stan muttered, lying down on his bed.

Kenny looked between his two friends, he was always stuck doing the crappy jobs. “You guys are such pussies.” Kenny grabbed the Broncos trash can and opened Stan’s window. “You better appreciate this Stan; I should get to grab your mom’s naked tits for this-.” Kenny leaned out the window to turn over the trash can.

Stan sat up in his bed, ready to tell Kenny to never come to his house ever again. But before he could get the words out, both he and Kyle watched as Kenny toppled out the two story window...

xXx

“Christ, Sharon, what’s gotten into him?” Randy sighed, “We can’t even have Thanksgiving dinner together as a family anymore! He used to be such a good kid...”

“I can’t believe Stanley’s been so out of control lately!” Sharon said, eyes over her head, “He used to be such a picture-perfect child, just like Jesus he was tender and mild. He’d wear a smile while he wore a thorny crown.”

“Yeah, a little time off school and these kids go crazy. That’s why kids should stay in school even longer.” Randy said, poking his mashed potatoes, quite angry now with his son’s embarrassing behavior towards their guests.

“I don’t know what you two are yakking about! I’m proud of Billy.” Grandpa cried out, “He’s a good kid, Howard. At least he didn’t sing with some pussy band when he was a teenager!”

“Dad, he’s ten.” Randy snarled.

“Stanley’s undergone too much psychological stress from the two of you that his fragile psyche has collapsed and his repressed anger and resentment has manifested itself in a serious behavior problem.” Joanne shook her head, “I guess it goes to show however horrible and careless the parents are, the children will always turn out poorly if the parenting is poor. Maybe you should get Stanley some psychiatric help.”

“Joanne, fuck off.” Sharon said bluntly, getting pretty sick of her sister-in-law belittling her and her husband’s parenting.

“Brilliant Sharon, give in to gender stereotyping by treating your own sister-in-law terribly over a small insult. How lady-like of you!” Dean deadpanned.

“I’m proud of Stan myself.” Jimbo interrupted, “You know, he’s really starting to grow some balls. I was starting to think he’d be a pussy forever. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be in the war just like me and Ned here.”

“Mm who knows?” Ned asked.

“Maybe someday we can take him huntin’ or finishin’ again and he might actually kill a real animal for once!” Jimbo grinned.

“Isn’t killing small animals the first sign of a budding serial killer?” Dean noted.

”I have had it just about up to here with the two of you.” Jimbo scowled, “You and your wife are annoying the hell out of us. Why the hell d’you give a little boy a pink skirt, huh?”

“Skirts can be manly!” Dean defended.

Ignoring all of the ruckus, Stephanie was sitting with Starvin Marvin, who was communicating via his clicks and whistles. Stephanie didn’t miss a beat - did her parents make her learn Ethiopian or something? Oh wait, no, there came Gerald, explaining it in English. He was closest to the kids’ table after all. “What Marvin is saying is that before his family reached Marklar, food was so hard to come by that family members would kill each other over scraps of food.”

“Wow. How do I say Dude, that sucks, in Ethernopian?” Stephanie asked.

“Don’t try to speak it until you’re in college.” Gerald advised. “Marvin says that in Africa, most women have a higher chance of being raped than learning how to read or write, and there’s diamond mines where people fight and get killed over gems. Not to mention all that religious stuff like Joseph Kony... hey, you can’t- well ok- Marvin’s an atheist, apparently.”

“Wow, that’s... pretty fucked up.” Stephanie said bluntly.

Gerald continued translating Marvin’s clicks and whistles, “Absolutely, but you can’t dwell on all of the bad stuff. Marvin’s luckier than a lot of his other fellow Ethiopians - most of them died of AIDS before there was a cure, almost every girl Marvin’s ever met was raped at some point. Marvin’s lucky to be alive; he was the one to lead his people to Marklar, where they can be happy.”

“Yeah... I guess, there are a lot of worse things in the world than your parents kinda overlooking you for your cousin... I mean sure, my parents do dote over Stan but it’s not like they’ve deliberately mistreated me over it, they just want more to be more like him...”

“Well, no, Stephanie, actually that’s abuse-”

“Maybe instead of pushing back to my parents and trying to be angsty and bitchy because they wanted me to be a good kid. I shouldn’t try to act like my cousin. I mean yeah, my life sucks a little, everyone’s life sucks, but at least I have food to eat, and all that shit.”

“Stephanie, no, your parents are-” Ignoring Gerald, she approached her parents and breathed in,

“Mother, Father... listen here. I’ve learned something today. I’m not like my idiot cousin, and hope I never am like him, but you know what? I’m still smart, and no one can ever be exactly like anyone else. If my cousin’s idiocy is the product of his stupid parents, then you need to accept I’m the product of the two of you, okay? I may have been misguided with my hate for Stan, like both of you are misguided with his likeability, but the fact is his entire family are fucked up beyond recognition. I’m lucky I at least got the academic genes out of you. Maybe you did something right in your parenting if I read too much to cope, instead of acting like jackass."

"You know you're right, honey." Dean grinned at her. "You keep on reading those fantasy books and maybe one day you can go to college to study English and Literature. It's not a science or based on fact, but it's still a respectable field of study."

"Really Daddy?"

"Yes, and besides, between reading you and I can go dress shopping. Maybe mom can come along as well."

Joanne had set her fork down; she took a deep breath and looked up at her daughter. "This is exactly what I wanted, a situation to go horribly wrong but someone coming out with an intelligent resolution. I never thought Stanley would be the cause for the insanity and you being the voice of reason. I'm so proud of you, Stephanie."

Stephanie smiled back at her parents. "Good. Now can we please just go home and celebrate my birthday in Denver like a normal, solid, and intellectual family, instead of here with these drunken freaks?”

“Hey I’m not even drunk yet!” Randy responded.

“AUGH!” There was a loud thud coming from outside.

“That sounded like Kinney!” Carol stood up, running to the door, followed by her family, all concerned for the middle sibling. Kenny dying wasn’t interesting to Cartman since he wasn’t a pussy like Stan or Kyle were. Though he had racked up $400 from pretending to be as gay as those two. It would be $420 as soon as Stan gave him his payment for the favor he owed him. Instead Cartman continued casually eating at the table, while everyone rushed out to the back yard, the entire gaggle of families outside checking over Kenny McCormick’s bloodied corpse.

“Oh damnit, not again!” Stuart looked down his son’s corpse. A few people raised eyebrows at the ‘again’. “My boy’s dead!”

Carol felt a shooting pain in her stomach, “Aw, damnit, well there go our plans for tonight!” Stuart went over by his wife and put a comforting hand on his and Karen's shoulder. “Poor Kenny...”

“Maybe’s he’s not dead.” Stephanie said, trying to hold back tears. Kenny had been her first kiss, oh the tragedy.

“It looks like he broke his neck, he’s a goner.” Uncle Dean said, leaning over Kenny’s body.

Upstairs both Stan and Kyle were looking out the window in shock. “Oh my God, I killed Kenny!” Stan cried out.

“You-” Kyle began instinctively, “What? No, dude, that’s crazy. It was an accident. He slipped.”

“But right before, I was so angry about how he broke my nose and was going to tell him to never come to my house again!”

“Well technically now he won’t. But no one else will know that. He’s in a better place now.” Kyle tried to put a hand on Stan’s shoulder but his best friend shook him off.

Out in the yard, Uncle Dean was trying to open Kenny’s parka to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. He pulled out something rather interesting. “Where the hell did he get this from?”

“Sharon isn’t that the bra I got you for your birthday last year?” Randy asked.

Sharon turned bright red. “No, no that’s not mine.”

“Yeah it is, Sharon.” Randy continued. “It’s the one you always wear when we play the game where you’re the naughty teacher and I’m the student who’s grades are slipping. Hey, maybe you should cut Stan some slack, math is hard.”

From upstairs Stan turned away in horror, not only for witnessing the death of his second best friend, but for finding more about his parent’s sex life this weekend than he ever wanted to know. Stan had to cover his ears or he’d be jumping out the window after Kenny.

“Well there has to be a reasonable explanation of why a ten year old boy would have a woman’s bra in his coat.” Aunt Joanne was trying to reason.

Uncle Dean stood up and faced the group solemnly. “Of course there is, Kenny was a cross dresser all along!”

A chorus of "What!" Came from both Stuart and Jimbo as the three men broke into an argument.

Kyle shut the window and followed Stan back into his bedroom, genuinely concerned about his friend's mental state. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what I can say. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“No, just, your family isn’t getting together for Hanukkah of anything, right?”

“Maybe, but we’ll be on our Christmas adventure by then.”

“But what if something terrible happens to us during that?” Stan gingerly touched his nose, realizing how easy it was to get hurt.

Kyle sat Stan down on the bed and looked at him pointedly. “Listen, dude, we can’t control when we’re gonna die. But I promise if I do, my last words to you would never be, I should get to grab your mom’s naked tits after this. Okay?”

“You’re right, maybe Kenny got what he deserved. Grabbing the boobs of dead Playboy playmates in Heaven.” Stan smiled at his super best friend, though he still felt terrible.

“Hey Stan, I found one of your other stupid relatives.” Cartman said from the doorway, moving aside as a man with shaggy brown hair, glasses, blue jeans and a torn-up work shirt stepped in the room, grinning,

“Hey Stan! Wow, have you grown up. I remember when you were so tiny.... wow, your trim. It's so cute.”

"Trim?" Kyle asked.

"The red parts of your hat, jacket and gloves. So cute. Can I get a closer look." The man said as he stepped forward.

There was a low fear in Stan’s voice, all angst over Kenny taking a backseat, “U-Uncle Shane? You’re out of prison?” he began quietly, before taking off his gloves and hat, before shoving them in his pockets.

“Yep, they finally let me go! Now we can spend all of our time together!” he tried to hug his nephew, but Kyle stood between them protectively. Uncle Shane looked at Kyle, “Who’s your cute friend?”

“...Cartman, call the police.” Stan said, gritting his teeth.

“Nah, I think I’m gonna go watch TV. Have fun with your creepy uncle, dude" Cartman left.

Uncle Shane grinned, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s play a game. It’s called guess what color underwear I’m wearing...”


End file.
